


rule #4: don’t stare at hot boys

by undercookeddaichi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Choking, Coming Out, Crying, Dating, Dirty Talk, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Making Out, Mild Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Pining Shirabu Kenjirou, Porn with Feelings, Rough Kissing, Shiratorizawa, Shiratorizawa Supremacy, Sleepovers, Supportive Semi Eita, handjobs, shirabu is baby, shiratorizawa shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25931812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercookeddaichi/pseuds/undercookeddaichi
Summary: Shirabu Kenjirou does not fall for straight guys. Straight guys like Semi Eita.In which Shirabu is intent on keeping his sexuality to himself but struggles when he has to play volleyball with a very hot and presumably very straight Semi Eita. Pining, angst, smut, and chaos ensue.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 79
Kudos: 512
Collections: Finito.





	1. Chapter 1

Shirabu Kenjirou does not fall for straight guys. 

He already made that mistake once in junior high, over a boy with dark eyes and dark hair that he always brushed out of his eyes when he stood up and a dimple on his left cheek. The rest of the boys in their class smelled like axe and hormones but that boy, he smelled like clover. When he stood up to sharpen his pencil, Shirabu pretended to need a tissue so that he could tilt his head a little while he passed, smell clover and catch a glimpse of his hair up close, wonder what it would feel like beneath his fingertips. 

Shirabu never worked up the nerve to actually talk to him, but he wrote him a cutesy love letter that he still cringes about as he’s falling asleep, even if it was anonymous. The last line.  _ Would you care if I’m a boy? _ God, puberty is weird. 

And, of course, that boy  _ did _ care. He ripped up the paper right on his desk before class started, right where everyone could see, and he said a word that Shirabu didn’t know yet: “Ew. I didn’t know there was a fag in our class.” 

Thank God no one was in the bathroom when Shirabu stumbled into it fifteen minutes later, leaned over the sink and cried his heart out through his eyelashes. He sobbed and dug his nails into palms and looked at how red his eyes were. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve as if it would help. He cried when he walked home, too. And while he did his homework. And after dinner. And in bed, when he buried his head into his pillow and his whole body shook. 

That was the first time he wished he hadn’t been born. Well, that’s not entirely true; he just wished he hadn’t been born gay. What the hell had he done in a past life to deserve same-sex attraction? Looking a little too curiously at male models on magazine covers or running his hands along his mother’s dresses a little too happily, it was cute and normal and harmless when he was a kid. And then junior high fucking ruined everything. 

He punched the air above his bed and threw God a middle finger. He didn’t care if he got electrocuted or smited or whatever else. If anything, he wished that would happen. 

He knew high school wasn’t going to be any better, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t flinch internally when the slurs and mocking were heightened, at least for the kids who couldn’t hide as well as Shirabu could. All he could think about was how lucky he was that he hadn’t come out to anyone other than strangers online, and as far as he knew, no one suspected him. 

While he played volleyball in middle school, his teammates are much more mature now. Okay, maybe ‘mature’ isn’t the right word, but at least they don’t compare dick sizes and talk about which girls they jack off to and make stupid noises. Tendou likes to tease them in the clubroom and gossip more than the rest of them, but he only ever has good intentions. The rest of his teammates are on the quiet-side, serious, composed, at least when they’re on the court. Shirabu fits right in. But more importantly, he doesn’t have to pretend to be straight with them, and that in itself is more than he could ever ask for. 

He hasn’t come out, obviously, but girls don’t really come up with the Shiratorizawa volleyball club. Ever. Shirabu has never questioned that. He just enjoys the benefits of never having to lie about his sex life like he did with his old classmates. His very,  _ very _ non-existent sex life. Aside from the whole being gay and closeted and knowing his only chance to lose his virginity is far away at university, he doesn’t…. exactly know how to deal with his teenage horniness, taunting him every fucking evening with boners over nothing... And sometimes more than nothing. But learning how to masturbate is low on his list of priorities when he’s much too focused on maintaining ridiculously perfect grades and continuing to be a regular for a powerhouse. 

Instead on mornings like today, they talk about (or rather, Tendou talks about) Shonen Jump while the rest of them just listen in the clubroom before class starts. Shirabu sets his things down as he walks in, muttering a greeting and trying to stop a yawn by biting his lip. When he opens his crinkled eyes, a few sleepy tears in his eyelashes, Semi’s looking at him. 

Shirabu Kenjirou does not fall for straight guys. Straight guys like Semi Eita. 

“Morning, Shirabu.” Yamagata says smiling. Kind as ever. 

Shirabu nods at him, sits down on the floor beside him and Kawanishi. “Good morning.” 

“Kenjirou! How are you on this lovely day?” Tendou asks like Shirabu is the best thing that’s happened to him all week. On the inside, Shirabu sighs. But he clears his throat with a soft, “I’m fine, thank you.” 

It’s what he says every morning, every time someone asks if he’s feeling okay because he’s used to people misinterpreting the apathy in his expression and his quiet tone for something wrong. But after he says it, Semi fucking snorts, looks down at his phone, rolls his eyes. 

Shirabu goes rigid. No one else seems to notice, or at least they don’t care, but Shirabu does. He always does. He watches Semi for a moment, trying to figure out what he said that was so damn funny, that would elicit a response like that, analyzes Semi’s small smile and the brown of his eyes and… he’s staring, really staring at Semi. His dirty grey hair, the way it’s tousled and sticks up in all the right places, a bit messy since he woke up a little while ago... Shirabu wonders what he looked like when he woke up, shirtless probably, stretching and yawning and bleary-eyed, sliding out of his sheets in just black briefs (he’s always wearing tight briefs, not that Shirabu knows that, because why would Shirabu be looking at Semi’s underwear in the club room), or maybe he sleeps naked and- 

Semi clears his throat. 

Fuck. Shirabu didn’t even realize he was staring. And Semi noticed. He’s got that grin on his stupid face that drips silent sarcasm, pisses Shirabu off even though his mind momentarily wanders towards what kissing that grin would feel like. Fuck. 

_ Rule #4 - Don’t stare at hot boys.  _

The bell rings, thank God, and Shirabu grabs his bag as quickly as he can without looking behind him. He’s the first one to class. 

It was how Shirabu coped when he realized he was gay, or moreso when he realized no one can find out that he’s gay. He’s good at lists and following directions and things like that, so he made himself a set of rules to remain invisible. The first couple are the simplest and mainly deal with straight boys being off limits, the rest consisting of avoiding feminine things and saving any and all pining for his journal. But he just broke a rule. Because of Semi. Semi Eita. 

_ He’s going to be the death of me. _ Shirabu thinks to himself. 

* * *

Lunch arrives too quickly. Shirabu sits next to Reon and Kawanishi, across from Tendou. Semi’s not there, Shirabu notices, but he doesn’t ask why. It’s too risky after this morning (even though no one would think anything of it and he knows that). Shirabu is a chronic overthinker. It doesn’t matter, though, because Kawanishi asks for him.

“Have you seen Semi?” 

Reon and Tendou exchange glances. That’s not a good sign. 

“He had a meeting with his teacher.” Reon says, and Shirabu can’t detect anything false about his tone. Still, that doesn’t sound like Semi. Semi, who’s mediocre at best when it comes to his grades, Semi, who wouldn’t blow off a teacher but wouldn’t schedule a meeting during his lunch break, either. Shirabu bites inside his lip to stop his thoughts from venturing further. It doesn’t matter. Semi is straight, he reminds himself, although that’s not exactly relevant right now. Still. 

Shirabu just hums, looks across the cafeteria at nothing in particular. 

As the last bell rings, Shirabu gathers his things and rushes to the clubroom like he does every afternoon, always being the first to change and the first in the gym. His seniors think it’s him trying to justify his place as a regular being an underclassmen, but it’s just too avoid seeing his teammates half-naked. By teammates, he means Semi. 

So when Shirabu opens the door of the clubroom confident that he’ll be alone for a few minutes as usual, his heart collapses at the sight of him. Semi. His back to the door. Shirtless. Pulling his shorts over his legs. His back muscles pushing and pulling in response to his movements, his whole body flexing as if it knows it has an audience. 

A small sound like a whimper escapes Shirabu’s throat. And Semi hears it.

Shirabu wants to fucking die. 

“Shirabu.” Semi turns to face him as he finishes pulling up his shorts. “Ah, right. You always get here early, don’t you.” He smirks, raises his eyebrows at the blush ravaging Shirabu’s cheeks. “Everything okay?” 

But Shirabu’s experienced at regaining his composure. He keeps his gaze away from Semi’s body and walks right past him, setting his things down and wasting no time pulling his practice clothes out. The Spring Tournament is soon, he doesn’t have the capacity to focus on anything other than that. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

“Why wouldn’t it be.” Shirabu says flatly. 

Semi chuckles a little. “Just asking.”

Shirabu doesn’t respond. 

“You know,” Semi says after Shirabu finishes pulling his shirt on. “You don’t have to be so hostile all the time. With me.” 

Shirabu’s throat gets a little dry at that.  _ With me _ . He risks a glance at him. Semi’s passive-aggressive when he talks to Shirabu, he’s a mix of arrogance and frustration and sarcasm, not whatever this is. It’s stressful. But it’s hot, too. 

“I’m not hostile.” Shirabu says. 

“Uh huh. Sure.” Semi smirks. Shirabu’s not looking at him, he’s focused on changing because he doesn’t trust himself to look at Semi right now, but he feels Semi’s eyes on him. 

He knows Semi isn’t over losing his status as their main setter, and worse, replaced by an underclassman. They both know that. Maybe from the outside, that would explain the cold sarcasm and forced advice and frustration between the two of them. But Shirabu knows that’s not it. And it’s his fault, too. His fault for seeing Semi on the first day of his first year, met his caramel eyes with his chocolate, felt chills up his spine and into his chest and his dick, bit his tongue when he found out Semi had a girlfriend a week later, decided the best way to cope with the hot straight boy on the volleyball team was distance; both physical and emotional distance. Shirabu was already good at that. Plus, heated competition over the setter position was an easy excuse. 

But more than a year later, a year of ignoring him and giving backhanded remarks and pushing Semi far enough away that sometimes Shirabu hated him, Shirabu still gets stupid butterflies over him. Ugh. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Semi asks. 

Fuck. 

“What?” Shirabu says. He hates it when people say that.  _ Can I ask you something? _ It’s not good for his overthinking. 

“Why are you always the first one in the gym?” 

Shirabu keeps his eyes down as he ties his shoes. 

“I like being early.” 

“Really.” Semi says. “Why?” 

“Do I need a reason for that?” 

“Are you insecure or something?” Semi asks. 

Shirabu looks up at him. He’s sitting on the bench with his legs spread in the most obnoxious way, his arms crossed across his chest, a challenge on his lips but something softer in his eyes. Shirabu doesn’t like it. He feels a little bit too gay. 

“I don’t have any reason to be insecure.” 

Semi hums. 

“Whatever you say.” He says. 

Shirabu puts a hand on his hips. “What does that mean?” 

He really doesn’t like how Semi shrugs, stretches his neck and lets his head fall back so that the soft skin of his throat’s exposed and rolls with a yawn. Shirabu can’t count the number of fantasies he’s had about Semi’s neck. 

“I don’t know, what  _ does _ it mean?” Semi stands up. Does he ever lose that stupid (and hot) smirk? “Now, hurry up. You have a lot you need to work on.” And with that, he ruins the moment he didn’t know Shirabu was having. 

Shirabu doesn’t say anything. He just swallows and walks past Semi out of the clubroom just as Tendou and Ushijima walk through. 

Practice is long and sweaty and annoying, annoying because of Semi (like it always is) and his incessant need to give Shirabu advice he already knows and reminders he doesn’t need, either because he thinks Shirabu needs to hear it or more likely just to feel like he’s doing something useful. He genuinely means well, though, and Shirabu hates that he knows that.  _ Rule #18 - Avoid empathizing with hot straight boys.  _

Shirabu gathers his things quickly after practice ends and bows his head as he leaves, passing the third-years gathering to get pork buns together like they usually do on Fridays. Semi waves at him. Shirabu ignores it. 

He doesn’t let himself think about Semi on the walk home, as he grabs a snack to bring up to his bedroom, organizes his homework by priority on his desk. He doesn’t think about Semi for three hours until his phone vibrates. It’s the Shiratorizawa group chat, which he usually ignores, especially while he’s doing homework, but the notification says it’s a message from Semi. 

_ 9:18 PM _

**Semi** :  _ Hey guys _

**Tendou** :  _ semi semi °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° _

**Goshiki** :  _ Hi Semi-san! _

**Reon** :  _ What’s up?  _

**Yamagata** :  _ Hey (ᵔ.ᵔ) _   
  


Shirabu narrows his eyes. He can’t remember the last time Semi texted the groupchat out of nowhere like this, if ever. 

**Semi** :  _ So, I just wanted to talk to you guys about something _

Shirabu stops breathing. 

**Semi** :  _ I’m bisexual. Sorry if this is weird to say over text, but I wanted to tell you all at the same time  _

He stares at the screen. Those characters, those little black characters burned onto his retina.  _ I’m bisexual.  _ Semi. Semi… isn’t straight. 

For a long moment, Shirabu reads and rereads that sentence, surprised at how angry he is at Semi. He’s furious. Doesn’t Semi know? Doesn’t he know what happens to queer boys who come out? He’ll be ridiculed, yelled at, harassed, kicked off the volleyball team, hurt, worse… Shirabu bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. His hands shake as he grips his phone, waiting for three bubbles from anyone. They’re silent. For a long moment, their teammates are silent. Shirabu’s heart teases his throat as he panics, trying to decide what he should do, if he should respond or yell at their teammates or text Semi separately or-

**Tendou** :  _ semi semi !!! i’m so proud of you !!! ＼(≧▽≦)／ _

**Reon** :  _ I’m glad you finally came out to everyone, Semi. You already know that I support you completely (*^‿^*) _

**Yamagata** :  _ You’re a great guy and who you love doesn’t change that _

**Goshiki** :  _ Thanks for telling us Semi-san! (◕‿◕)♡ You’re a very talented senpai!! Nothing will change that!! _

**Tendou** :  _ i agree with tsutomu (´,,•ω•,,)♡  _

**Kawanishi** :  _ Thanks for telling us, Semi-san _

**Ushijima** :  _ I am glad that you are on our team, Eita.  _

**Tendou** :  _ wakatoshi-kuuuun (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ _

This… This is not what Shirabu expected. He blinks, feeling blind and dizzy all at once because he was wrong and Shirabu Kenjirou is rarely wrong, especially when it comes to things like this. Semi isn’t straight. And their teammates are fine with it. They’re supportive. Semi isn’t straight. 

As all sorts of emotions bubble up in Shirabu’s chest, he shoves his phone in his pocket and almost trips down the stairs, shouts something about needing to visit a friend to work on a project even though it’s almost 10 and he doubts his parents will believe him, stumbles into his shoes. And then he’s running. 

He’s only been to Semi’s house once (he had left his bag in the clubroom after practice) but his feet, his muscles remember how to get there. It takes him eight minutes. Before he can even think about what’s gotten into him, he’s knocking on Semi’s front door with pink cheeks. 

Semi answers it after the seventh knock. 

This was a bad idea. 

“Shirabu? What the hell are you doing here?” 

Semi rubs his eyes, adjusting to his dark doorstep where Shirabu stands in nothing but a white sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He’s shirtless and wearing black sweatpants, too, and it doesn’t matter that Shirabu’s seen Semi shirtless a thousand times before because he’s never seen him like  _ this _ . Shadows around his eyes, hair tousled just like Shirabu imagined, something sleepy in his flexing muscles. Shirabu swallows. It suddenly occurs to him that he really doesn’t know why he’s here. 

“I…” Shirabu starts. “You’re bisexual.” 

Semi just looks at him.

“Yeah. I am.”

“I didn’t know that.” Shirabu says. 

“...Okay. Do you wanna come in?” 

“What about your parents?”

“My mom’s visiting family.” Semi says. “If she was here, she’d be pissed, though. You couldn’t have knocked quieter?” 

Shirabu blushes furiously and mutters “sorry,” but he steps inside. As they enter Semi’s bedroom, he plops down onto his bed, stretching and letting his legs fall open. Shirabu’s throat gets all tight when he notices that Semi… isn’t wearing anything underneath his pants. 

“You can sit down, you know.” Semi tells him, motioning to his bed. Shirabu sits on the edge and keeps his eyes trained on the wall, far away from Semi’s abs and his muscles and dick. “So… Did you come here to get confirmation or something?” 

“N-No. I just… I didn’t know you weren’t straight.” 

Semi snorts. “Well, yeah. The only people I told before were Tendou and Reon.” 

“They knew? For how long?”

“Uh, I think I told them about a year ago..? Why does it matter?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Shirabu stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I was just curious.” 

“You must be really curious if you came all the way to my house to ask that.” 

Shirabu looks down at his lap. “That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Obviously.” 

Semi pulls himself up so that he’s sitting beside Shirabu with his legs crossed, leans in so that their faces are only a few inches apart. Shirabu doesn’t dare to look up. 

“Do you have a problem with me liking guys? Is that it?” 

“N-No. Of course not.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Then why are you here, Shirabu?” 

Shirabu looks up at him. They’re so close that he can see specks of gold in Semi’s irises, see a freckle beside his nose that he never noticed. Semi smells like lavender. 

He’s frustrated. That’s why he’s here. He’s frustrated that Semi fucking Eita isn’t straight. 

“What if the team didn’t accept you? What would you have done?” There’s a cold edge to his tone. “What if they called you a fag or said shitty things about you, what if you weren’t allowed to play volleyball anymore? What would we do without you?” That last part wasn’t supposed to come out but it did anyway. 

Semi narrows his eyes a little, as if he’s searching Shirabu’s face for something that might contradict what he just said. But Shirabu just blushes again, bites the inside of his cheek because his body doesn’t know what to do with Semi looking at him like this. Semi clears his throat and leans back on his hands. 

“First of all, I don’t give a fuck if people call me a fag or whatever other slur applies. That’s bound to happen, but I knew the team wouldn’t do that. If you hadn’t noticed, all of them are gay as hell, too.” He grins, rolling his eyes. “But what I wanna know is why you of all people would care if I got kicked off the team, though. It would just be less competition.” He jokes. 

Shirabu’s brain short-circuits as he struggles to process Semi’s words. The team… Their teammates… Gay as hell? What is Semi talking about? 

“I- Of course I would care about that. The team needs you.” Shirabu manages to say coherently. “But… What do you mean our teammates… they’re...” 

Semi laughs. “Gay? Duh. Have you seen Wakatoshi even look at a girl? Ever? He and Tendou have been a thing since our first year. I mean, they haven’t told anyone obviously, and only the third-years know. And I can tell just by looking at Goshiki. There’s not a straight bone in his body. Reon’s just gay and I think Yamagata told me that he’s pan.” He shrugs, seemingly unaware that he’s ripping Shirabu’s reality up into little pieces and lighting said pieces on fucking fire. Shirabu just stares at him with a crinkled forehead and parted lips and scrunched brows, like Semi is speaking English rather than Japanese and Shirabu’s hanging onto the conversation by a thread. 

“Is it really that surprising to you?” Semi says after he notices how screwed up Shirabu’s expression has become. “You sure you don’t have a problem with queer people or something?” 

“I-I’m sure. I just- I didn’t… I didn’t know. I had no idea.” Shirabu stutters. 

Semi crosses his arms. “I know something that Shirabu Kenjirou doesn’t? That’s a first.” 

Shirabu scoffs, ignoring the little chill that shoots down his spine at his given name on Semi’s tongue.

They’re quiet for a minute, but then Semi asks, “So what about you?” 

Shirabu has imagined this moment before. He’s imagined Semi pointing a finger at him, resentment in his cheeks as he asks Shirabu if he’s gay. Never had his imagination conjured up a scenario in which Semi came out, told him that Shiratorizawa’s volleyball club is basically the GSA, and then casually asked Shirabu his preference. In his late-night hypotheticals, Shirabu usually didn’t have a choice but to tell him. But this is so much different than that. Semi’s usually aggressive, dominant, persistent about these sorts of things. Yet right now, Shirabu can’t find a single expectation behind his words. 

Shirabu opens his mouth to say something, he doesn’t know what something is yet, but it doesn’t matter because he’s crying. And not just crying, sobbing. Sobs that explode out of his heart and rack his chest and shoulders, that make his arms shake as he buries his face into the hot palms of his hands. His tears feel so hot and wet on his skin and he hates it. He hates crying in front of anyone, especially when it’s Semi. 

But then he feels arms wrapping around his shoulders and the feeling of being pulled close to someone’s chest. Shirabu feels weak, like he couldn’t resist if he wanted to, but that’s strangely okay. He usually cries alone. It’s nice to be held as emotions take over his body. It’s really nice. Semi tucks Shirabu’s head beneath his chin, rubbing his hand into Shirabu’s back with one hand and letting the other run through Shirabu’s hair in a slow, gentle way. A voice in the back of Shirabu’s mind is panicking, screaming that he should be at least somewhat more flustered being held by the boy he’s had a crush on for more than a year, a ridiculously hot boy who happens to be bisexual. All Shirabu can do is cry. 

“I know,” Semi whispers. “I know, Kenjirou.” 

They stay like that for God knows how long. Long enough for Shirabu to stop shaking and eventually stop crying all together, feeling nothing but drained. He doesn’t want to think about how he looks right now. Probably all pink with blotchy eyelids and flushed cheeks. Even after his body calms down, though, Semi doesn’t let him go. He keeps his arms snug where they are, refusing to stop playing with Shirabu’s hair. If anything, he holds him tighter. And Shirabu never wants him to stop. 

“Semi.” Shirabu whispers into his chest. “I’m gay.” 

“That’s your first time saying it outloud, isn’t it.” Semi says gently. Knowing. 

Shirabu nods. “Yeah. It is.” 

“Hey,” Semi pulls back a little so that he can see Shirabu, his arms still around him. “I’m proud of you. I wish someone had said that to me. I also wish someone had told me that being queer fucking sucks, but it’s so worth it.” 

“Yeah, right.” Shirabu says with a little more acid than he intended. 

“I’m serious.” 

Semi brushes Shirabu’s bangs aside. All of sudden Shirabu’s feeling too hot, Semi’s hands on his skin feeling like a thousand pounds as his emotional high wears off and the realization that this is _really_ _fucking happening_ sets in. It’s too much. It’s all way too much. But he can’t find it in himself to move away, not when he’s dreamed about being in Semi’s arms for so long. Even if it’s for the wrong reasons. 

“Fuck, I want to kiss you.” Semi breathes. 

Or the right reasons. 

Shirabu’s eyes widen. He didn’t hear that right, Semi didn’t really just say that. But… he did. Semi Eita isn’t straight and he wants to kiss Shirabu.. Even if Semi hadn’t said it, the way his eyes are a lot darker than they were just a moment ago, the way they devour Shirabu’s face and linger at his lips, they give him away. A sound like a whimper leaves Shirabu’s throat. 

“Do it.” Shirabu blurts. “Kiss me.” 

Semi doesn’t hesitate. Shirabu hates how cold he feels as Semi unwraps his arms from around him, but then there are warm fingertips against his jaw, tilting his head up just slightly. He runs his thumb along Shirabu’s bottom lip and smirks when Shirabu sighs at the feelings. It seems like an eternity before Semi leans into Shirabu and presses soft lips against soft lips. He’s gentle at first, letting Shirabu get used to the feeling of their mouths moving together. 

It’s better than anything Shirabu has ever fantasized. 

He moans into Semi’s mouth when he feels something wet, Semi’s tongue feathering across his bottom lip. 

“I never thought you would be so vocal.” Semi smiles into the kiss. 

Shirabu doesn’t have time to react, to even try to calm his shrieking heartbeat before Semi moves one hand to the back of Shirabu’s head, yanking his hair, and the other to his throat. Shirabu gasps. Semi applies just enough pressure that Shirabu can still breathe, but enough that he couldn’t move out of his grip if he wanted to. Electricity erupts from where Semi’s fingertips touch his throat all the way down to Shirabu’s dick, eliciting the breathy, high-pitched whine that Semi was aiming for. 

“Yeah? You like it when I choke you?”

Shirabu can only moan in response. It’s all happening so fast. 

“I thought so.” 

He’s not gentle anymore as he yanks Shirabu back into his kiss, forcing his tongue into Shirabu’s mouth. Shirabu resists at first, purely because he doesn’t understand what Semi’s trying to do, but a sharp squeeze to Shirabu’s throat makes his lips part with a moan. Semi drags his tongue everywhere he can reach inside Shirabu, along his teeth and tongue and the sides of his mouth. Semi tastes like cherries. Somewhere during the kissing and moaning and desperation, Semi manages to rearrange the two of them so that Shirabu’s on his back. Semi straddles him, keeping one hand locked in his hair and the other around his throat, still digging his tongue deeper into Shirabu’s mouth. He only drops his hands to grab Shirabu’s arms and pin them on either side of Shirabu’s head, and he drags his fingertips along the tender skin of his forearms until Shirabu’s arching his back, whining so fucking loudly for Semi. 

Semi only pulls out of the kiss when Shirabu pushes against his chest in protest. They’re both out of breath, panting as they stare at one another. Semi drags the back of his hand across his mouth and stretches his neck a little; Shirabu’s not even embarrassed when he whimpers at that. 

“Semi,” Shirabu finally says after catching his breath. “We should talk. First.”

“About what?” 

“This. About this.”

“We made out. And you saw a little bit of my kinky side. What else is there to talk about?” 

Shirabu could kill him. Even after all that, Semi still finds a way to piss Shirabu off. He squirms beneath Semi until he slides out from under him and sits up with his knees pressed against his chest. He realizes he’s not touching Semi anymore, though, so he scoots close enough to him that their legs touch. It’s embarrassing, but he grabs Semi’s hand, too. 

“Is this the part where you tell me that you’re in love with me?” Semi says. 

Shirabu goes rigid for the millionth time that night, his cheeks turning a ridiculous shade of crimson. As if he should be surprised anymore.

“H-How did…”

Semi smiles his stupid smile, but he’s gentle as he rubs his thumb along Shirabu’s hand. “At first, I genuinely thought you hated me. But it was almost too over-the-top, if that makes sense. It sort of clicked when I realized you couldn’t make eye contact with me in the clubroom. And I mean, stuff like today when you were so obviously avoiding looking at me. That’s why you come so early to practice, right? And this morning when you were staring at me without realizing you were staring.” Shirabu cringes at that, but Semi laughs softly. “No, no, it was cute. It’s cute. You’re cute, Kenjirou.” He tilts Shirabu’s head up to look at him. They’re both blushing now. 

“I really thought you were straight.” Shirabu says. “That’s why… That’s why I never planned on telling you. I never planned on coming out whatsoever. I’m glad I did, though. I’m glad you did.” 

Shirabu presses his lips together. The words he’s played with in bed at night, while watching Semi smile from across the gym, scribbling in his journal, they’re perched on the edge of his tongue. Fuck it. 

“I like you, Semi. I really do like you.” 

And the words he never expected to hear from Semi’s lips.

“I like you, too.” 

“...For how long?”

“Sometime last year. I always got the feeling you were still figuring yourself out, though, so I never wanted to pressure you. But I figured you were gay. You didn’t hide it as well as you thought clearly.”

“Clearly.” 

Shirabu doesn’t know what else to say, where they go from here, but Semi knows that and leans forward, kisses Shirabu’s forehead so lightly that Shirabu feels his heart shatter in his chest. He feels… 

“I think this means you’re my boyfriend now. If you want.” Semi says against his forehead. 

“Yes.” Shirabu breathes. “Please.” 

Semi shifts on his bed so that he’s lying down with his head on a pillow, spreading his arms with an invitation. Shirabu lies down with him and nestles against Semi’s chest. He starts to wrap his arms around Semi’s waist but hesitates, still new to this whole cuddling thing and affection thing and boyfriend thing, but Semi encourages him by pulling his arm closer. It goes without saying that Shirabu plans on staying the night. Whatever punishment or lecture his parents give him for leaving unannounced is worth it, worth it for him to fall asleep tangled with Semi’s body. Semi really does smell like lavender. 

“Everything okay?” Semi mumbles as Shirabu pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

“Yeah. I’m just texting my mom.”

Shirabu types out a shitty excuse and an apology, promising that he’ll be back first thing in the morning, but his mother doesn’t seem that upset when she responds. He starts to turn off his phone but stops. He opens the groupchat. It feels like Semi came out months ago even though it was only a couple hours. A couple hours for Shirabu’s entire life to change. 

He spends a couple minutes deciding how to word it. Short and sweet? Long and emotional? He types out a paragraph but deletes it almost immediately. Might as well get to the point. 

_ 11:48 PM _

**Shirabu** : _I’m gay_

As soon as he presses send, he snuggles closer to Semi and tries not to shiver with the amount of adrenaline unleashed in his blood. Semi mindlessly strokes his hair. And then his phone buzzes, and he gives Shirabu a little squeeze as he pulls it out of his pocket. 

“I inspired you, huh.” He places a kiss on top of Shirabu’s head. 

“Sort of.” Shirabu admits. 

Both of their phones buzz.

_ 11:50 PM _

**Tendou** : _KENJIROU !! ･ﾟﾟ･(／ω＼)･ﾟﾟ･._

**Tendou** : _FVVNKUBBDG_

**Tendou** : _im so proud of you !!ヽ( >∀<☆)ノ_

**Reon** : _Congrats on coming out!_

**Yamagata** : _We support you 100% and nothing will ever change that!_

**Ushijima** : _I’m glad you told us, Kenjirou._

**Goshiki** : _That’s great, Shirabu-san!!! I’m happy you told all of us!!! o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o_

**Tendou** : _is this a good time to tell u guys im gay too ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )_

**Ushijima** : _We already know that you are gay, Tendou._

**Tendou** : _wakatoshi-kuUUN ( ╥ω╥ )_

Shirabu doesn’t realize he’s got a goofy smile on his face until Semi taps his nose. 

“Feel better?” 

Shirabu puts his phone down. 

“Yes. Definitely better.” 

Better isn’t the right word for how he’s feeling. There’s not a word for the feeling of this much weight lifted from Shirabu’s shoulders, like he can breathe for the first time, like he’s had his eyes closed for a hundred years and the first thing he sees when he opens them is a sunrise, like he’s wrapped up in Semi’s arms with lavender in his nose. There’s not a word for this feeling and that’s okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there isn't enough semishira appreciation in this world so i made some myself 🥺 i hope that someone who hasn't really thought about semi x shirabu before reads this and realizes how fricking amazing their relationship is because that's what happened to me xpdjsjksw ^^ i'm not totally sure where i'm gonna go with this, but i'm obsessed with them right now so i'll probably write a bunch of lil one shots (some smutty, some wholesome, some angsty) :D thank you sm sm sm for reading !!! i really appreciate comments 💕💕  
> [my tumblr](https://undercookeddaichi.tumblr.com/)!!  
> [my instagram!!](https://instagram.com/leftoverbokuto?igshid=1jmbu8777iur)  
> [my ko-fi 🥺](https://ko-fi.com/undercookeddaichi)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and make up ❤️

This is pointless. Shirabu tells himself that it’s pointless, that there’s no good reason as to why he’s walking to Semi’s house on Monday morning before school, and yet his body won’t listen. It takes him longer to get there than it did on Friday night (it feels so much longer than just two days ago) but that’s because he’s walking rather than sprinting. 

When he turns onto Semi’s street, he stops. This is so stupid. Why is he here? But as soon as he spins back around, scolds himself, starts heading towards Shiratorizawa, he hears footsteps. 

“Kenjirou?” Semi calls out. 

Sparks. 

Shirabu doesn’t turn to face him, but he stops moving at least. It’s too early in the morning for Shirabu’s cheeks to turn pink with a blush, yet here he is. Semi has too much power over him. Semi Eita. Shirabu grinds his teeth together.

It takes Semi a minute to catch up to him. He readjusts his bag as he steps in front of Shirabu, Shirabu who’s still red and staring at the pavement. “What are you doing here?” 

“I had to run some errands before school.” Shirabu mutters. They both know it’s a lie. 

“Yeah, uh huh, sure.” Shirabu can imagine Semi rolling his eyes right about now. “It’s definitely not because you wanted to walk with your new boyfriend to school, right?” 

_ New boyfriend.  _ Shirabu’s breath catches in his throat at those words. In a good way. In an insanely good way even though the word itself is terrifying and Shirabu can’t tell if the buzzing in his chest is from excitement or fear or butterflies when he hears it in Semi’s voice, or probably all of the above. 

_ Boyfriend _ was always a forbidden word for Shirabu, right alongside the words  _ gay _ and  _ queer _ and  _ he’s hot... _ But that’s changed since Friday. At least, it’s starting to change. All because of Semi. Shirabu finally looks up at him. 

Of course that was a bad idea. 

Semi Eita in the morning is notoriously a bad idea for Shirabu. He doesn’t understand how a boy can look like this so soon after rolling out of bed, after spending three minutes running fingers through his hair rather than a comb, splashing a bit of water on his face and applying a generous amount of deodorant from years of locker-room experience. Semi’s the kind of a boy who was blessed with natural beauty. It shows in his eyes, the color of chocolate beneath long, dark eyelashes that other people can only try to emulate with copious amounts of mascara. It shows on his skin, the same consistency as clouds and morning dew even though he forgets to moisturize sometimes. 

Shirabu’s mainly mesmerized by Semi’s hair more than anything, though, which is why mornings are so difficult when sleep leaves his grey hair all tousled and messed up in the prettiest way. He wonders if he could make Semi’s hair look like that with his own hands… 

“Kenjirou,” Semi smirks. “You’re staring again.” 

Shirabu’s eyes get all wide as his thoughts abruptly trip over themselves.  _ Fuck _ . He starts to deny it, starts to say that he was looking at something over Semi’s shoulder and not how gorgeous his hair looks, his eyes look, but Semi would know it’s a lie. He’s always been able to tell when Shirabu’s lying. 

_ Rule #4, rule #4, rule #4 _ , Shirabu’s mind starts chanting that stupid rule that he’s ingrained in himself, a sin he made up himself that keeps tempting him even though he’s God and it should be so easy to-

“You’re allowed to stare, you know.” Semi’s voice is so gentle that it startles him. 

“W-What?” 

Semi takes Shirabu’s hand and holds onto it when Shirabu flinches and instinctively pulls away, checking to make sure there’s no one who could see two boys holding hands on the street. But Semi just brings Shirabu closer. 

“Semi, we c-can’t-”

“Kenjirou.” Semi says. “Stop thinking so hard.” He brushes his fingers through Shirabu’s bangs with his free hand. Shirabu’s body screams in protest, every nerve and muscle of his on edge as he breaks rules he hasn’t made yet, rules like  _ don’t hold a boy’s hand in public _ and  _ don’t let a boy play with your hair in broad daylight _ . 

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing this.” He breathes.

“Doing what?” Shirabu asks, struggling to hold himself together with the way Semi’s eyes are melting into his. Rather than saying what he means, Semi starts to lean even closer to Shirabu, clearing a place on Shirabu’s forehead for him to rest his lips against, but something snaps inside of Shirabu. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much. 

His body moves on its own accord as Shirabu abruptly shoves Semi back, away from him with an unnecessary amount of force that he didn’t intend but doesn’t regret.  _ It’s too much.  _ Even still, Semi’s core is strong and it takes more than Shirabu’s dainty arms to move him that much. He stumbles back a few steps, though, giving Shirabu space he didn’t know he needed.  _ Too fucking much.  _

“ _ Stop _ .” Shirabu’s voice breaks. It’s all he can manage to say. 

“Shirabu?” Semi reverts to his family name and it feels like a rusted knife in Shirabu’s chest. “What’s wrong?” 

“This is… too much. Semi.”

“What’s too much?” 

Shirabu hates crying in the morning. 

“Because we’re gay.” 

Semi crosses his arms. Semi always crosses his arms. “And?” 

What part of this doesn’t he understand? They’re gay. They’re boys. They’re fucking dating. Isn’t this self-explanatory? Shirabu scrunches his hands into fists and pinches his nails into his palms, raising them to his temples like he does when he feels like he’ll explode with words he can’t bother to say aloud, a habit of his that Semi doesn’t know about. That no one knows about. 

Semi tries to place gentle hands over Shirabu’s fists, but Shirabu jerks away, spilling a few inconvenient tears onto his school uniform. 

“Talk to me, Shirabu.” 

“We’re in public. We- We can’t do this here. Someone could see-”

“The street is empty. It’s 8 in the morning on a Monday. No one is going to see anything. And even if they do, who the fuck cares?”

“I fucking care.” Shirabu snaps. He doesn’t raise his voice, he never raises his voice, but his flat tone shakes with panic. “We… This is too much. We just started dating. I’ve liked you for years, but- but I didn’t know you weren’t straight until a couple days ago. It’s just- I’m- We’re in public…”

“Shirabu.” Semi says. He doesn’t try to get any closer, instead lifting his hands up in the same way someone approaching a wounded animal might. “I get it. I really do.” 

“Clearly you fucking don’t.” Shirabu spits out.

Semi ignores him. 

“We started dating two days ago, yeah. Obviously there’s still a lot about you that I don’t really understand yet. And I don’t know what happened to you in the past, but I’m assuming there were some really shitty things. I’m right about that, aren’t I?” 

Shirabu rubs his eyes with his sleeves. He hopes they’ll be dry by the time he gets to school.

“I’m sorry I was so touchy this morning. I was- I’m excited. Because.... I’ve, you know, I’ve liked you for so long. Ugh, God, I must sound so cringy right now. But regardless, I should’ve checked in with you first and I let myself get carried away, and I understand why that would make you anxious, Kenjirou.”  _ Yes, say my name again. _ “I just… I promise you that absolutely no one is going to lay a finger on you as long as I’m around. I won’t let anyone say any homophobic shit to you. I’ll fucking curbstomp anyone who hurts you, Kenjirou,”  _ Again _ . “Or anyone who makes you uncomfortable or treats you less than you deserve, and you deserve the fucking world. Okay?”

Shirabu can’t remember a time when Semi’s blushed like this, all pink with crinkled eyes and forehead wrinkles. He’s vulnerable like this. Vulnerable yet somehow still badass, and Shirabu fucking adores him for it, as hard as it is for him to admit that to himself. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Shirabu says through his sleeve. 

Semi takes a hesitant step closer to him. This time, Shirabu doesn’t move away. 

“I want to.” Semi takes another step. “I know this is all new for you. We’ll go at your pace from now on. We won’t do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with. I’ve been waiting for you for so long… I don’t mind waiting a bit longer.” 

Semi eyes are honest. Anyone could watch how Semi’s looking at Shirabu and see the pure adoration behind his words, in his eyes. It makes Shirabu blush. No one’s looked at him like this before. With a promise. 

“You’re much better at this than I am.” Shirabu says. He exhales a sigh through his nose and wipes any remaining moisture from his cheeks, praying that his eyes aren’t too puffy. He usually cries for much longer than he just did. But then again, he doesn’t usually have Semi there to say the right things. Semi really does say the right things. 

“I do have a bit more experience than you do. A couple boys and a girl once, but never anything serious. Probably because of that damn second-year on my volleyball team with his stupid perfect hair and stupid perfect lips who I could never stop thinking about.” Semi jokes. 

For the first time this morning, a smile finds Shirabu’s lips. 

“Come on, we should get going. You ready?” Semi slips a hand into his pocket, still maintaining a respectful few feet away from him. 

Shirabu nods, and Semi leads the way. Eventually, Shirabu works up the nerve to close the distance between them. They still just look like school friends walking together, but now they’re walking side-by-side. He’s not ready to hold hands, not yet, but he gets close enough to Semi that their shoulders are touching the whole way, close enough that Semi grins so widely he looks like an idiot.  _ My idiot.  _

Tendou lets out a ridiculous gasp as the two of them walk into the clubroom together. It occurs to Shirabu that they’ve never walked into the clubroom together, let alone stood close enough to each other that their shoulders touch. Shirabu starts to feel another wave of guilt, shame, stress, all sorts of emotions he’s painfully used to even though they don’t have names, but one sideways glance from Semi has him grounded. A glance that says  _ just let me handle this _ and  _ we’ll take our time, don’t worry about a thing.  _

“Oh? Is this a new friendship I see?” Tendou asks. 

Semi shrugs and heads to the usual spot where he sets his things down. “Coincidentally entering the clubroom at the same time doesn’t mean anything, Satori.” 

Shirabu follows his lead, keeping his head down and lips tight as he sits down beside Yamagata like he does every morning. It’s hard to keep his eyes from wandering to Semi, though, because something about Semi lying about them is unreasonably hot. 

After the weekend they had, a night of cuddling and sweet somethings, a Saturday night of facetiming until 2 in the morning, texting all day Sunday, it’s easy for Shirabu to forget that their teammates think they hate each other. To think they had been secretly pining over each other this whole time… He almost wants Semi to out them just to see the team’s reaction. But Semi won’t do anything without Shirabu’s approval. Shirabu fights off a smile. 

And then Ushijima walks in, all sweaty from his morning jog. He looks at Shirabu. He looks at Semi.

“I’m glad you two are finally dating.” He says.

Shirabu feels his heart lurch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've read a lot of fanfic that is exclusively about getting together OR several months/years after getting together, so i've decided to make this one about the aftermath of getting together. it will follow semi and shirabu as they navigate their new relationship. smut and fluff to be expected ^-^ i love you so much oh my goodnesssss 💕 💕 xoxo :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chaotic, to say the least

_10:40 AM_

_Private Message to:_ **_Semi_ **

**Shirabu** : _Meet me in the bathroom. Now._

His teacher taps her finger against the blackboard and Shirabu jerks his head up in a fleeting moment of panic, although she was only pointing to an English word that they’re learning. She hasn’t noticed Shirabu’s phone balanced on his knees under the desk. Yet. 

This would be the first time Shirabu has ever used his phone in class, violating an unhealthy portion of his moral code stemming from Rule #31 (being a perfect student will help compensate for being gay). But this would also be the first time he and Semi got outed to the Shiratorizawa volleyball team. 

God must have been feeling rather sadistic this morning because after Ushijima had essentially outed the two of them, the bell had rung. The bell. Semi had to walk Shirabu to class, he was such an internal mess, although Semi had assured him that their teammates had been apathetic about the whole thing. _Yeah, right._ That was all he had time to say, all the time they had to digest and process and talk about the fucking bomb Ushijima dropped in the clubroom.

Shirabu’s eyes dart to the three moving bubbles on his screen. _Of course Semi would have no qualms checking his phone in class._

**Semi** : _i thought you didn’t text during class_

 **Shirabu** : _I never do_

 **Semi** : _i’ll be there in 3 mins ;)_

Shirabu stands up so abruptly his desk makes an atrocious sound sliding across the linoleum. His teacher stops speaking mid-sentence, cocking an eyebrow but letting him dismiss himself to the bathroom. _God, this is embarrassing_. He digs his palm into his forehead and keeps his eyes down the whole way down the hall. 

The boys’ bathroom is empty when he gets there and he veers to the sink to splash water on his burning face, stained with a blush that hasn’t left his face since this morning, since Ushijima… He reminds himself to breathe. 

“Kenjirou?” Semi calls out gently. Shirabu’s whole body jolts at his voice. He forgets to breathe, again, as he whips his head up from the sink. In his usual fashion, Semi’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a corner of his lips pulled up. “What’s so urgent that a star student used his phone in class?” And in his usual fashion, he pisses Shirabu off. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Shirabu says, keeping his voice much lower than it needs to be. 

“Hmm… I can’t say that it is.” Semi drags his fingers through his hair in pretend confusion. Shirabu is so pissed he could kiss him. 

Shirabu turns back to the sink, running his fingertips under cold water to stop himself from digging them into his palms. When he looks up, he sees Semi’s reflection behind him as Semi messes with his hair even though it’s already perfect and Shirabu doesn’t understand why he can’t see that. 

Semi steps a little closer. It’s an unconscious step, innocent and meaningless, but suddenly Shirabu feels dizzy as new worries pour into his mind. If Ushijima knows, then who else does? Their classmates? Their teachers? What if his teachers tell his parents, then what? A thousand what if’s swarm Shirabu, make him nauseous and his muscles tremble, all because Semi’s standing a bit too close for comfort. Shirabu stumbles backwards and accidentally bumps into one of the stall doors, the largest stall. He lets the door fall closed behind him. 

“Kenjirou.” Semi knocks against the door a few moments later. “Talk to me.” 

Shirabu lets his head fall against the wall. “Ushijima…How does Ushijima know about us?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, on Friday when the third-years went to get pork buns, I went ahead and came out to him before I texted the groupchat. Tendou and Reon already knew, so I told him and Yamagata. Just to prepare them I guess? It’s not like they’re straight or anything, though.” Semi says. 

The stall door is unlocked, but he doesn’t try to open it out of respect for Shirabu and _God_ , Shirabu wants to kiss him. 

“Nothing about that would make him think that we’re together. Maybe… Is it because I came out so soon after you did?” Shirabu asks. “ _Shit_.” 

“...I don’t think that was it, either.” 

Something about Semi’s tone doesn’t sit right with Shirabu. His voice is different, like it’s missing something... Lacking its usual confidence. 

“Semi. Come in here.” 

Semi cracks the door hesitantly before stepping through and shutting it (and locking it) behind him. His arms return to their usual place across his chest. 

“Did you tell Ushijima?” Shirabu asks flatly. “Don’t lie to me.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Really.” 

“I wouldn’t have told anyone without your permission.” Semi raises his eyebrows. “You do know that, right?” 

“I do.” 

Shirabu looks down at his hands. He does know that, he really does. He just...

“I did tell Ushijima that I have feelings for you. On Friday.” Semi says. 

Shirabu whips his head up. “You what?” 

“He was talking about you, and you were on my mind since I had just come out. So I told him. I told all of them, actually.” 

He wants to be angry, Shirabu wants to be mad at Semi for telling them all that, but he bites his lip before he says anything. He’s projecting. He knows he’s projecting. There’s nothing wrong with Semi telling his close friends who he has a crush on, even if Shirabu couldn’t even imagine doing that. He takes another deep breath, deep enough this his shoulders get all tense and then drop with his exhale. 

“What did you tell them?” He finally asks. 

Semi smiles, a real smile and not a smirk. “I told them that you annoyed the fuck out of me when I first met you, and that your hair is too stupidly straight and beautiful, and that I thought you hated me but I didn’t care because it was fucking cute regardless. And even though I was furious when you replaced me as a regular, a part of me was okay with it because it was you. A small part of me, but still. I told them that looking at you makes me question if I’m gay rather than bi. I am _really_ fucking gay for you, Kenjirou.” 

Shirabu chews his bottom lip to resist the smile struggling to bubble out of him, but the way his eyes widen and his eyebrows slant a little give him away. He’s helpless when it comes to Semi. He thinks he always will be. 

“What do we do?” He asks just above a whisper. 

“I don’t think there’s anything really _to_ do. Unless you want to talk to Ushijima about this. We can. We totally can if that will help you feel better. We can talk to the team if you want.” Semi keeps his voice steady, soft, soft enough that he could be talking about anything and it would help Shirabu relax just to hear him. “What do you want to do, Kenjirou?” 

But Shirabu just scoffs to himself. 

“If you had treated me like this before, I might have come out sooner.” 

The crease in Semi’s forehead gives way to a laugh and Shirabu considers what would happen if he kissed him here and now once again. 

“Fuck, I really should have then, huh. It’s alright. I have you now, don’t I?” 

Shirabu hates how rigid his body gets when Semi says things like this, because he wants to nod and scream God, yes but all he can do is stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips that Semi could easily slip his thumb through… _Why am I thinking about that?_

Semi’s still leaning against the stall door, still maintaining enough distance for Shirabu to breathe, but… But… Shirabu takes a step closer to him. 

“Semi…” He breathes. 

“Hm?” 

“I’m… gay for you, too.” Shirabu feels a little silly saying that, but a little exhilarated, too. “Really gay.” 

He moves closer, brushes a bit of hair behind his ear. His senses are on edge, listening for any signs of movement in the bathroom aside from him and Semi, but he swallows his anxiety down, lets himself go missing in Semi’s eyes. 

“I think… I think what I want…” Shirabu starts. “I think that if the team asks, you can tell them. That’s what I’m comfortable with.” 

“Okay. Okay, we can do that, Kenjirou.” 

Shirabu’s hesitant, a little uneasy, as he brings his hand to Semi’s chest. Semi drops his arms to his side but doesn’t move, he just blinks in surprise as Shirabu’s fingers rest on his uniform, over his heart. Shirabu’s pulse sounds like thunder in his ears. He moves closer, close enough to rest his forehead on Semi’s collar with a sigh. A sigh, a release, a _hold me_. Semi wraps his arms around Shirabu, nervously at first, until Shirabu nuzzles into him closer; Semi pulls Shirabu into his chest with a firmness that makes Shirabu forget why he ever thought this could be a bad idea in the first place. Tension he didn’t know he was holding drains out of Shirabu’s body as his shoulders slump and his jaw releases and his fingers unclench beneath Semi’s touch, his acupuncture. He lets his eyes close. 

Right now, Shirabu doesn’t mind that Ushijima knows. The whole world can know for all he cares. Right now, he wants the whole world to know. 

“I thought I would stop getting butterflies if we started dating.” Semi says after a few quiet moments. 

“Did you?”

“I think I got more.” 

* * *

As effective as Semi’s touch therapy is for Shirabu, it wears off less than an hour after they leave the bathroom. It took a lot of convincing on Semi’s part for Shirabu to let go of him (even though he was content to hold Shirabu there the entire day and “fuck class”), and now forty-five minutes later, Shirabu’s anxiety is creeping back. It’s a miracle that he makes it to lunch without breaking his pencils in half.

He avoids the cafeteria and heads straight to the grassy patch behind the volleyball gym, a place he finds himself heading to when he’s too tired or overwhelmed or overworked or simply too _done_ to deal with anyone, and as usual, there’s no one else around. He’s not hungry so he just slumps against the brick of the wall, pulls out some homework to work on even though it’s not due for a week. Only Shirabu Kenjirou would be soothed by calculus. It’s better than letting his mind wander to thoughts of Ushijima or what he said or what he knows or what the team knows or what the whole fucking world- Shirabu flinches as his phone buzzes in his bag. 

_1:09 PM_

_Private Message from:_ **_Semi_ **

**Semi** : _where are you?_

Oh. He should’ve known that Semi would notice. 

**Shirabu** : _I’m not hungry_

 **Semi** : _i didn’t ask if you were hungry_ _:/_

 **Semi:** _you’re avoiding the team, aren’t you_

Shirabu hesitates, lectures himself for underestimating how well Semi knows him. There’s no point in lying, but he bites his lip and isn’t in the mood to to be direct, either. 

**Shirabu** : _And what if I am?_

 **Semi** : _i assumed so. i just wanted to let you know that no one’s talking about what ushijima said this morning.. but do you want me to say anything?_

 **Shirabu** : _No_

 **Semi** _: okay babe_

Shirabu’s heart does something uncomfortable in his chest at that. Uncomfortable in the way that his blood gets all cold and then erupts in flames even though it’s just a stupid word and it shouldn’t make Shirabu feel so... feel so _good_ . _So gay_. 

“... _Babe_?” He murmurs aloud. 

Pet names. He’s never thought about pet names before. Rule #28. 

**Semi** : _want me to come join you behind the gym? ^^_

And of course he would know about that, too. Shirabu huffs through his nose. 

**Shirabu** : _How do you know where I am?_

 **Semi** : _i practice during lunch sometimes. (you look cute when youre out there studying)_

 **Shirabu** : _...Thanks_

 **Shirabu** _:_ ❤️ 

Shirabu never uses emojis. He thinks they’re tacky. Unnecessary. But he’s not sure how else to express that when he said “ _Thanks_ ,” what he really meant was, “ _I want to kiss you so fucking bad right now and you have no idea and you have no idea how tight you make my chest feel when you say things like that._ ” 

**Semi** : ❤️ ❤️ 

**Shirabu** : _By the way, were you practicing on Friday?_

 **Semi** : _no why?_

 **Shirabu** _: You weren’t at lunch_

 **Semi** _: oh yeah right_

 **Semi:** _i had to finish homework_

 **Shirabu** _: That’s not what Reon and Tendou told me_

 **Semi** _: …_

 **Semi** _: what did they tell you?_

 **Shirabu** _: It doesn’t matter. Where were you?_

 **Semi** _: does it matter ??_

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Shirabu shoves his homework aside and brings his knees to his chest, gripping his phone with both hands now. This isn’t good for his overthinking, either. 

**Shirabu** : _Yes._

 **Semi** _: if i tell you, it wont be my fault if youre upset_

 **Shirabu** _: Semi_

 **Semi** _: you asked for it_

 **Semi** _: i wasnt at lunch because i was jerking off to you in the bathroom_

And if God didn’t torture Shirabu enough today already, the bell signaling the end of lunch reverbates across campus as soon as he reads the text. 

* * *

“Hey, isn’t Shirabu usually the first one here?” Reon asks. 

He and Semi and Tendou are pulling their practice shirts on when he notices, although Semi was already well aware. He expected that Shirabu would be late. That doesn’t change how disheartened he feels, though. A part of him feels responsibility for Shirabu’s anxiety, the older brother part of him. 

“Well?” Tendou raises his eyebrows at Semi before bending down to start on his shoelaces. “Shouldn’t his boyfriend know where he is?” 

“Ugh, shut up. And don’t talk about that around him. I think he’s still getting used to all of this, and you know how stressed he can get about things. So lay off for a while.” Semi pulls his arm over and behind his neck to stretch it a little bit. “Or else.” He adds. 

Reon smirks and shakes his head slightly, but Tendou makes a shrill sound, narrows his eyes, fucking grins at Semi as if he _wants_ Semi to pummel him right here and right fucking now in the clubroom. 

“I always knew you were a top.” Tendou says.

“What the actual fuck, Satori.” Semi sighs and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, although he’s tempted to reply, _Isn’t it obvious_? 

“So, you two are official?” Reon asks. “I can’t believe Wakatoshi was right.” 

Semi shrugs. “He was purely guessing. That guy’s more receptive than he looks.”

“Obviously! Sigh. I’m sick and tired of people underestimating my Wakatoshi-kun. He’s quiet because he’s reading people, you know.” 

Reon chuckles and Semi does, too. 

“That’s so gay.” Semi says. 

Reon sighs. “Tell me about it. Tendou assaults me with texts about ‘his Wakatoshi-kun’ at least once a day.” 

“And is Ushijima aware of how horny you are, Satori?” 

“Don’t get me started on Wakatoshi-kun’s d-” Tendou starts to sing-song, but Reon and Semi’s simultaneous groans interrupt him. 

“I am worried about Shirabu, though. I hope he doesn’t skip practice.” Semi says after a few moments. But when he looks up from adjusting the waistband of his shorts, Reon and Tendou are suspiciously quiet all of a sudden. It takes him a moment to realize why, following their gaze somewhere behind him, by the clubroom door, standing with cheeks so blood red he looks like he could burst into tears. Shirabu. 

Before Semi can say anything, or do anything really, Shirabu’s yanking him by the wrist out of the clubroom, down the hall, to the grassy side of the gym where vents jut out of the building. It’s shady here, secluded by the fact that no one would want to be on this side of the gym for whatever reason. They’re as alone as they can be. 

“K-Kenjirou?” Semi manages to say. 

His mind races to remember if he could’ve done something or said something wrong, or maybe Shirabu overhead them in the clubroom and he changed his mind about their teammates knowing. Shirabu ignores him. He keeps his eyes down and paces away from Semi, clearly mulling over something. Semi’s seen him like this before. 

Semi sighs, crossing his arms and preparing to give Shirabu the time he needs to gather his thoughts. But he doesn’t have to wait long until Shirabu abruptly leans against the building, throws his arms up on either side of his head, and angles his neck. 

“Just fucking kiss me, Semi.” 

Shirabu glares up at Semi beneath his ridiculously gorgeous bangs, as if he’s daring him to do what he asked. And with his chest already rising and falling rapidly, lips parted and glistening, arms pinned to the wall right where Semi can see them, right where Semi’s imagined them before in fantasies Shirabu would slap him over, Semi can’t resist. 

He’s gentle but deliberate as he approaches Shirabu, hitching his leg up between Shirabu’s thighs and gliding teasing fingers up Shirabu’s arms until he finds his wrists. He lets out a gentle laugh as Shirabu arches his back and moans a little at such simple touches. 

_Oh, this is nothing compared to what I want to do to you,_ Semi thinks. 

He finally brings their lips together and is surprised by how urgent Shirabu’s mouth moves against his. It’s nothing like the docile Shirabu he made out with on Friday. Semi loves this. He kisses Shirabu harder, relishing in the constant stream of gasps and whines pouring from Shirabu’s throat. 

_Good, yeah, just like that_ . Semi thinks. _Keep whining for me._

They kiss against the wall for long enough that Semi starts to worry about pissing the coach off, but not long enough that he huffs when Shirabu pulls away. 

“Are you gonna explain where the hell _that_ came from?” Semi tries to catch his breath. 

“Your text.” Shirabu breathes. “You jerked off at school. While thinking about me.” 

Semi doesn’t get why that would instigate a sporadic make-out session before practice. “Yeah. And?” 

Shirabu scoffs like Semi’s a fucking idiot for being so oblivious. Maybe he is. 

“That’s…” Shirabu’s voice softens. He’s embarrassed. “That’s hot.” 

Semi blanks for a minute. He most definitely was not expecting Shirabu to say that, but as soon as he does, Semi starts attacking Shirabu’s neck with kisses. 

“S-Stop! ....I knew I shouldn’t have said that.” Shirabu glares at Semi as he pulls away (only because he’s worried about leaving marks before practice), but there’s a glint of a smile in Shirabu’s eyes. “It’s stupid, too. I’m assuming you know that already.” 

“It’s not my fault you were staring at me that morning.” Semi raises his eyebrows.

“Staring?”

“In the clubroom before class. You were staring at me, my hair and my lips, like you do sometimes, except you usually don’t look so fucking… I guess innocent is the word I’m looking for. You clearly liked what you saw and I wanted to fuck your mouth right there-” Semi cuts himself off as he realizes what he’s saying. Shirabu looks mortified. 

“Shit, was that- is that too much? I’m sorry, I never want to make you uncomf-”

“No.” Shirabu interrupts him. “I like it when you say things like that.” He edges a finger towards Semi’s hand, rests it there until Semi takes the hint and intertwines their fingers. “Say things like that more. Please.” 

“I can definitely do that, babe.” 

The look on Shirabu’s face when he says that is priceless. His eyes almost sparkle with how wide and bright they get, and his eyebrows slant just enough for Semi to notice, similar to how Shirabu might look on the morning of his birthday. He wants to remember this Shirabu. No, he wants to keep being the _reason_ for this Shirabu. 

_You like pet names, don’t you. I’ll remember that._ Semi makes a mental note. 

“You just go get changed.” Semi says as they’re walking back up to the clubroom a few minutes later. “I’ll handle the coach. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“What will you tell him?” Shirabu asks. 

They stopped holding hands as soon as they started heading back, but Shirabu’s fingers keep bumping into Semi’s. It doesn’t seem accidental. 

“I don’t know yet. I’ll make up some excuse about teachers needing to talk to us or something, but if that doesn’t work, I’ll take the punishment for the both of us.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not? I’m happy to.”

“Why?” 

“I like taking care of you, if you haven't noticed.” 

Shirabu blushes but shakes his head. “But this is unnecessary.”

“Nothing is unnecessary if it means helping you.” Semi stops outside the clubroom. “You’re gonna have to get that through your head fast if you want to date me, Kenjirou.” 

Semi thinks Shirabu might kiss him for a moment, with the way he’s looking up at him, but he just nods and ducks into the clubroom. He considers following after him to watch Shirabu change until the sound of a whistle reminds him of his most pressing concern. Coach. He’ll wait to embarrass Shirabu another time. 

Practice. 

It drags and makes them all sweat and reconsider if volleyball is really that important, like it does every fucking day, but that’s sort of the reason they all love it to death, too. Semi scrapes by with cleaning duties for the next two weeks (he took full responsibility for Shirabu and the coach didn’t seem to care either way, fortunately). Maybe that’s why practice feels longer than normal today; he fucking hates cleaning... Unless it’s for Shirabu. 

“Is Semi treating you right?” Semi overhears Yamagata asking Shirabu as they pack up a few sweaty hours later. From the corner of his eye, Semi watches Shirabu flinch, blush, and blink all at the same time. He nods weakly. 

With Tendou around, gossip spreads around the Shiratorizawa volleyball team like wildfire. 

It’s not until they’re in the clubroom again changing, showering, putting clothes away, that Ushijima’s voice cuts through quiet chatter. “Eita. Shirabu.”

Semi’s first instinct is locking eyes with Shirabu. He looks a bit stressed, but it’s nothing he hasn’t been preparing for all day. Both of them meet him by the door of the clubroom. 

“Oh? What’s this?” Tendou says, draping his arms over Ushijima’s shoulders as he joins them. 

“I wanted to apologize for making an assumption like that in front of everyone,” Ushijima says. Like Tendou said, he’s more perceptive than most people think. “I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you two. 

“You didn’t, no worries. And you were right, by the way.” Semi crosses his arms. 

“Tendou told me.” Ushijima admits. Tendou (in normal Tendou-fashion) makes some sort of purring sound and leans his head against Ushijima’s. 

“You two are adorable.” Tendou hums. “You give me soulmate energy. What do you think, Wakatoshi-kun?” 

“I think they should do what makes them happy. And I’ll be happy for them either way.” Ushjima says. 

Semi glances down at Shirabu, a bit worried about how he’s handling this more than awkward situation with his eyes down and bangs covering his face. But when Shirabu peeks up, Semi realizes he’s smiling. Semi decides to risk wrapping his arm around Shirabu’s shoulder and pulls him close, nuzzling the top of his head because he can and he likes the way Shirabu’s hair smells like almond butter. Shirabu doesn’t resist like Semi feared, though. He even leans into Semi’s touch.

They’re in front of everyone, the whole team, and Shirabu leans into him. 

“Thank you, Ushijima.” Shirabu says in his quiet voice, although he’s still smiling. “And Tendou… I agree.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh this chapter was hard to write, mainly because of writers block and trying to figure out how to make the plot and dialogue flow smoothly and rationally ^^ ((btw i hope the texts aren't too hard to read 🥺💞)) thank you for sticking with this lil semishira story !! i appreciate being able to share my love for these gay boys with others 🥰 (in my experience, semishira stans are the best kinds of people, dont @ me) ,, comments are appreciated as always ! ilysm xoxo ❤️  
> [my tumblr](https://undercookeddaichi.tumblr.com/)!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anxiety intensifies

This is perfectly normal. 

Shirabu stares at himself in the mirror. He’s been doing that for almost an hour now. 

This is all perfectly normal. 

Just two classmates spending a Friday evening together. Eating dinner. Catching a movie. Having a sleepover. Sharing a bed. 

Friends do that. 

Friends do that all the time, and it’s perfectly normal. 

But no matter how many times Shirabu repeats those words over and over and fucking over in his head, recycles that mantra like he’s been doing all week, his anxiety only seems to be growing. Looking at his reflection for so long doesn’t help, either. 

He combs his fingers through his bangs, convinced they look different in a bad way even though he washed and blow-dried his hair like he always does. He considers curling them, or using some gel maybe, or even borrowing one of his mother’s headbands, but that’s too gay. Running some water over his hand, he tousles his bangs a little bit. That looks worse. He swears under his breath, resisting the impulse to cut it all off because his hair is stupid and long and gay and- 

Deep breath. 

Perfectly normal. 

Shirabu turns his attention to his outfit instead, but apparently his mind has a lot to criticize about that, too. He unbuttons the top button of his shirt, tugs at his collar to loosen it the way Semi does. That doesn’t look right, though. Doesn’t Semi usually have his looser? Shirabu unbuttons the second button. Now it’s too loose. He buttons both of them. Now it’s too tight. Why is he even wearing a white button down to begin with? Semi told him it was casual, so why did Shirabu think a collared shirt and khakis were a good idea? He just figured since it’s their first official- 

He squeezes his eyes shut. 

That word shouldn’t cause his stomach to twist up, make his heart accelerate in the way that it does, but remembering that he and Semi are going on a _date_ … It’s not healthy for his stress level. 

They’ve been dating for a month now (34 days, according to Shirabu’s calendar). He’s gotten to the point where walking to school and home after practice together is normal, exciting even, and they have “study sessions” on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Sundays, either at the library or in Semi’s living room. Although studying usually turns into kissing which turns into Semi edging towards third base until Shirabu tells him to stop. 

Kissing is a whirlwind of adrenaline and risk and pleasure all on its own, more than Shirabu thought it could ever be. More because it’s with Semi. He would let Semi kiss him for every minute of every day if he could. But they can’t, and Semi’s hands have been wandering to dangerous places lately.

Shirabu stops himself from thinking more about it, already stressed without worrying that he’s not satisfying Semi enough in _that_ way, even if Semi promises that he’s fine and they’ll follow Shirabu’s pace- 

His phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, ripping him from his mind like it always does these days. 

_6:55 PM_

_Private Message from:_ **_Semi_ **

**Semi** : _im on my way <3 _

Shit.

Shirabu slams his phone down, his fingers struggling to pull his shirt over his head as he rushes back to his bedroom, to his closet. He doesn’t bother to get his breathing under control, he doesn’t have time. A hoodie? No, that’s too casual. His swallows, sliding his hangers around but not seeing anything that isn’t too casual or too fancy or too fucking _gay_. 

Has he put deodorant on yet? 

He abandons the shirts in his hands and rummages around his dresser, fumbles with the cap. After applying more deodorant than he probably needs, he notices an unopened bottle of cologne that his grandmother gave him sometime ago. It smells like peaches even though the label says “earthy.” He puts some under his neck. Just in case. 

And even though he already brushed his teeth, some cruel part of his brain tells him he needs to brush again, but he almost wants to cry as he sees his hair in the bathroom mirror. No amount of water or combing or rearranging can fix it, fix how stupid his hair looks, how far Semi is out of his league. 

_Stop it._ He plants his hands firmly against the counter. Just breathe, remember to- But his mom shouts up the stairs before he can calm himself down. 

“Kenjirou! Your friend is here to pick you up!” 

What? Already? How long was he messing with his hair? Shirabu can feel the color draining from his cheeks, see the panic in his own eyes off the mirror. His bangs are still damp. He hasn’t picked out a shirt yet. And Semi’s here. 

This is not perfectly normal. 

“O-One minute!” 

He fumbles with the lightswitch in the bathroom, his new priority being to finish getting dressed. His bedroom door slams behind him, and he throws open his closet, grabs a handful of hangers, tosses them on his bed. The colors look jumbled in his anxiety-ridden vision. What looks good with khakis? 

A soft knock on his door makes him jump.

“I’m almost ready, mom.” He struggles to keep his tone flat. 

“It’s just me.” 

Shirabu whips around, eyes wide, overwhelmed to the point of paralysis at the sound of Semi’s soft voice behind his door. 

“Don’t come in.” Shirabu blurts. 

“I won’t. Want me to wait downstairs?” He sounds like he’s smiling.

“Yes.” But Shirabu knows that’s not true. “I mean, no. You don’t have to.”

“Okay. I’ll be right out here then, babe.” 

The word that makes Shirabu melt. It doesn’t matter that Semi calls him by that name during every phone call, study session, whispers it in the clubroom, it doesn’t matter because Shirabu won’t get tired of hearing it. Babe. And with that word alone, somehow, Shirabu doesn’t feel so anxious. 

He turns back to the chaos that is every shirt he owns piled onto his bed. That only makes him stressed again, though, because he’s making Semi wait because he can’t pick out a shirt. He picks up a black turtleneck, swallows as he holds it up against his collar and steps in front of the mirror hanging on his closet. If their date was attending a funeral maybe… But as he turns to put it back with the rest of his shirts, his toe catches on the leg of his dresser. He falls with a gasp and a thud. 

“Kenjirou? Everything okay?” Semi calls out, his voice riddled with concern even though he doesn’t come inside. 

He’s respecting Shirabu’s boundaries, Shirabu knows that, he loves Semi for it, but for once, maybe just this once… he wouldn’t mind if Semi treated him like a princess. 

Shirabu shakes his head. He’s not even sure what that means. 

His toe stings, and he’s infuriated to the point of tears, with stress and embarrassment and frustration swirling in the worst possible way in his stomach, but Shirabu isn’t hurt. He could sit up, pull himself to his feet and find a shirt to wear. But he doesn’t. 

“Semi?”

“Yeah? Are you okay?” 

Maybe it’s pettiness. Maybe he’s pissed that Semi didn’t come in when he heard Shirabu fall on his own. Maybe he’s pissed at himself for thinking that. Maybe Shirabu’s always been a little bit of a brat and Semi is about to find out the hard way. 

Whatever it is, Shirabu doesn’t get up. 

“Please come in.” 

Semi’s eyes widen as he steps into Shirabu’s bedroom, cautiously at first, and then panicked as he rushes to Shirabu. “Babe, what happened? Are you okay?” 

Yes, Shirabu enjoys seeing Semi like this more than he thought he would. 

“I’m fine. I just stubbed my toe.” 

Semi slides his arms around Shirabu, lifting him up onto his feet and brushing his bangs aside to look at him better. Shirabu always blushes when he does that. And then he’s blushing even harder because he’s standing in front of Semi without a shirt on. 

It’s not that Semi hasn’t seen him shirtless before. They’ve seen everyone on the volleyball team shirtless, seen their dicks in the showers (although Shirabu never looked). But… Semi’s never seen Shirabu shirtless in his bedroom. Alone. Vulnerable.

Shirabu isn’t oblivious to the way Semi swallows, rakes his eyes over Shirabu’s exposed torso, over muscles that are difficult to notice when Shirabu’s wearing anything over them. He’s dainty, a little underweight, but years of training don’t go unrewarded, at least physically. Those things don’t register in Shirabu’s mind, though, because all he can think about is how absolutely plain he must look to Semi. Worse than plain. 

Semi, the boy who… who looks like Semi, with his hair and body and smile that have lived in Shirabu’s mind for years, the best at Shiratorizawa, in the whole word (in Shirabu’s eyes, at least)... And Semi looks even more handsome than usual tonight, in a black sweater beneath a jean jacket, black skinny jeans, boots, and is that mascara? 

Shirabu looks down, squeezes his hands white. He... hasn’t felt this before. Semi deserves so much more, someone who’s hotter and more confident and doesn’t spend an hour fretting over what shirt to wear-

“Kenjirou.” Semi tilts Shirabu’s chin up. “You’re overthinking it. Whatever it is.” 

Shirabu’s frozen by the chocolate of Semi’s eyes for a moment. But he blinks away, looks down and sighs a bit too aggressively. 

“What is it, babe?” 

“I… It’s nothing.” Shirabu’s chin feels cold as he pulls away from Semi’s hand. He turns back to his shirts, biting the inside of his lip to stop himself from crying because Shirabu cries too much, too easily and Semi shouldn’t have to put up with it. 

But on his bed, his shirts are wrinkled now. 

That makes him want to cry, too. 

“How about…” Semi slips his arm around Shirabu’s waist, smirking at the way Shirabu jolts at the feeling of Semi’s feelings on his bare skin. “This one.” He picks up a sweater off of Shirabu’s bed. It’s a knit, offwhite sweater the color of cream. His mother bought this sweater recently, since the temperature has been dropping over the last few weeks. 

A blush finds Shirabu’s cheeks. He nods. 

He still isn’t the beauty that Semi deserves, but the sweater looks nice against his pants and accentuates his eye color. Maybe Shirabu would have picked it out if he weren’t so nervous. As he stares at his mirror, Semi pulls him into a back hug, resting his chin on Shirabu’s shoulder, staring at their reflection. 

“You’re so pretty, Kenjirou.” He breathes into Shirabu’s ear. 

Shirabu responds almost automatically. “No, I’m not.” 

“Hey,” Semi frowns. “That’s not true. At all. You’re beautiful. Haven’t I told you that before?” 

“You have.” 

“Well clearly not enough.”

Shirabu blinks. “What?” 

“I haven’t made it clear how beautiful you are.” Semi shifts so that he’s looking down at Shirabu with his arms still firm around his waist. 

“That’s not the issue, I think.” 

“Well, I think,” Semi brings Shirabu closer. “If my boyfriend doesn’t know he’s beautiful, then I need to step up my game. Don’t you agree?” 

All Shirabu can do is blush. 

With the way Semi’s gazing at him… Anyone would blush. 

“Kenjirou.”

He raises his eyebrows at Semi. 

“You’re beautiful.” He presses a kiss to Shirabu’s forehead.

Shirabu tenses, his first thought jumping to his unlocked bedroom door and his nosy mother downstairs, but something about Semi’s lips brushing against his skin is soothing, enough to trust that it’s okay. Semi wouldn’t let his mother find them like this. It’s okay. 

“Kenjirou.” 

Shirabu looks at him expectantly. 

“You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.” He kisses the skin beside Shirabu’s eye. “Kenjirou. Beautiful. Pretty. Gorgeous. Perfect.” He kisses Shirabu’s nose. “You’re the most beautiful boy in the whole fucking world.” He kisses Shirabu’s lips, finally, and Shirabu’s giggle turns into a moan more than anything. “You're so beautiful,” Semi says during a breath, “that I,” another kiss, “don’t want anyone else to see you.” 

Shirabu pulls away enough to look up at him. “What?” 

“I said you’re so beautiful that I don’t want anyone else to see you.” 

Semi steals another kiss before Shirabu can really process those words. They make him shiver, make their kiss sweeter somehow, but Shirabu feels like he’s hallucinating for some reason. 

“W-Why not?” Shirabu manages to gasp.

Semi smirks, cocks his head a little like it should be painfully obvious. “Because your body is for my eyes only.” And then he kisses Shirabu again, but Shirabu’s lips don’t register the feeling because he’s struggling just to keep his heart inside his chest. He suffocates under the kiss until he manages to grip Semi’s shirt tight enough that he’s freed. 

“ _Semi_.” He chokes. 

“Yeah, babe?”

 _That fucking word again_. 

Shirabu doesn’t give himself time to overthink. 

“I think that might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

What’s left of his breath is ripped from Shirabu’s lungs as he’s thrown down onto his bed, on top of his clothes, greedy lips finding his before he knows what’s happening. 

“Kenjirou,” Semi kisses him with an intensity he last had the day they became a couple. “Who knew you could talk like that.” 

Shirabu feels a twinge of embarrassment, but something thrilling swells in his chest all the same, and he almost starts to say something else, something else _like that,_ but Semi abruptly pulls back. Shirabu glares at him, at the loss of warmth against his mouth. 

“You know I would kiss you all night. But we should probably get going. Movie at 8:30, remember?”

Semi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Shirabu loves it when he does that, although there’s something satisfying about seeing his saliva on Semi’s lips. He blushes that thought away. 

They do their best to put away all of Shirabu’s clothes, smooth out his sheets, fix Shirabu’s somewhat disheveled hair, and Shirabu feels his shoulders relax as they say goodbye to his mother who’s oblivious to any and all homosexual acts that just transpired upstairs. Semi has a way with her, managing to both compliment their home and make Shirabu’s mother laugh before they head out the door. That also makes Shirabu feel calm. 

Semi must have expected Shirabu to feel nervous about their first date, because he’s especially conscientious of maintaining distance between them on the way to dinner, at the restaurant when he sits across from Shirabu at the booth, while walking to the movie theater with his hands deep in his pockets. 

“I am definitely getting us popcorn. You hardly had enough to eat.” Semi cocks an eyebrow at Shirabu.

“Not everyone eats three servings in one meal.”

“I think three servings is an exaggeration. Especially coming from the guy who had less than one.”

Shirabu smiles with his eyes. “I had plenty.” 

“I’m still getting popcorn.”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t.” 

“What’s your favorite candy?” Semi asks suddenly.

“Why? I don’t want you to buy me anything.” 

“I wanna treat you!” 

Shirabu feels his heart rate pick up a bit, shaking his head. “There’s no need.” 

“I think there is.”

“I don’t think I did anything to deserve candy.” 

“You deserve a lot more than candy.” 

Semi shrugs as he says that, looks up at a glowing street sign in front of them, but Shirabu feels something in the pit of his stomach at those words. He doesn’t know why. 

As soon as they get to the theater, though, it’s that feeling in the pit of his stomach that causes Shirabu to hurry ahead of Semi to the register. He’s ordering a cherry slushie (a large, with one straw) and paying for it before Semi catches up.

“Here,” Shirabu spins around, nearly spilling the drink into Semi. “For us to share.” 

Semi stares at him.

“Really?”

Shirabu swallows, and then he nods.

“You’re okay with that?” 

“I want to.” Shirabu blurts. And then he takes a sip so dizzyingly fast that his head hurts from the cold and extends the straw for Semi. 

An indirect kiss. 

They both know that, Shirabu better than anyone. Even though there are plenty of other people around them, watching them, maybe, Shirabu ignores that right now. 

Semi puts his hand over Shirabu’s as he takes a sip. 

Kiss. 

The movie is a drama, something Semi was interested in, and something that Shirabu was comfortable with since it isn’t overtly romantic. Even still, neither of them are really paying attention. Not while their focus is on the slushie, taking turns drinking from the straw, one of them getting up to refill the cup every time it almost runs out. 

Near the end of the movie, Shirabu takes another risk. At least, it’s a risk for Shirabu, although no one else would consider brushing his hand against Semi’s in a dark, mostly empty movie theater a risk. Semi doesn’t react at first. Not until Shirabu tugs at one of Semi’s fingers.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable with this?” Semi leans over, whispering. 

Shirabu inhales, the thrill of it all making his body shake a bit. “Yes. I am.” 

When it’s over, they sit through the credits. Neither one of them wants to release their hands. Even as they’re walking out of the theater. Throwing away trash. Stepping onto the dim sidewalk. Shirabu doesn’t let go. 

Semi doesn’t stop smiling, either. 

And as they walk back towards Semi’s house, even with a bit of anxiety bubbling at the thought of their sleepover, Shirabu feels like this really is perfectly normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chp 4 of me giving shirabu my mental illnesses and making him live through my own sexuality struggle ✌🏻😖 fyi there will be smut in the next chapter ;) i really hope you enjoy this!! ilysm 💕💖💞  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw warning  
> smut :: handjobs, masturbation

“So… What do you wanna do?” Semi kicks his bedroom door closed, drinks in hand. 

Shirabu sits on the edge of Semi’s bed, jaw so tense he must look like he’s in pain. He flinches at the sound of the door, and then he blushes. “Whatever you want.”

“That’s the lamest answer.”

“You asked.” Shirabu relaxes enough to give him a cold look.

“Do you want to watch a movie? Play video games? Make out?” 

“We just spent the last two hours watching something,” Shirabu deflects quickly, trying his best to keep his heart in his chest where it belongs, to keep Semi unaware of how Shirabu’s entire body flushes at the last option. The option Shirabu wants the most. 

Semi smirks like he can see right through his boyfriend, though, but he doesn’t press him. He passes Shirabu a bottle of ramune (green-apple flavored), falling onto his bed beside him with his own in hand (coconut flavored). 

“That’s fair.” 

Semi takes a sip of his soda. 

Shirabu watches the way Semi’s throat moves as he swallows. When Semi opens his eyes, pulls the bottle away from his lips, he barely has time to look away. 

“What did you think of our first real date?” Semi asks. 

“Dinner was good.” Shirabu tries to get Semi’s neck off his mind. “I thought the movie was mediocre at times. The theater was cold. I wish I had brought a jacket.” 

He knows how stiff he sounds, but he can’t help it. Not with his mind in chaos at his boyfriend’s smell in his nose, butterflies swarming his stomach, expectations making his blood warm because certain things are expected to happen when two people who are dating spend the night together.

Semi sits up, one leg dangling off his bed and the other beneath him. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Shirabu doesn’t say anything. Instead, he watches bubbles pop in his ramune bottle. 

Both of them know that wasn’t what Semi was asking. 

Even still, Shirabu murmurs, “Oh. What do you mean?” 

“I mean how did our first real date make you _feel_? Mentally, emotionally, that kind of stuff.” 

He lets Shirabu take his time to think. Patient. He’s always so patient, especially when it comes to things like these, like how Shirabu’s feeling. Other boys aren’t as patient as Semi, Shirabu thinks, swelling at the thought.

“Eita.” 

Shirabu looks at him. Holding eye contact with Semi is still an experience in and of itself, even after 34 days of dating. 

“Yeah, babe?” 

“It was exciting. I was nervous, but I think you knew that, and it ended up not being as dangerous as I thought it would be.”

“Dangerous?”

Shirabu flushes. “A better word would be frightening.”

“Yeah?”

“It was thrilling. In a good way.” He presses his lips together. “I liked holding your hand.”

Semi smiles at him. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

“...We should do it again.” 

“I’d love to.” 

“Sooner rather than later.”

“I’m down with that.” 

“Eita.”

“Hm?”

Semi leans in a little closer, close enough that their noses could touch if Shirabu moved just a bit. The threat of a kiss blossoms in the air between them. It makes Shirabu shiver.

“Never mind.”

“What?” Semi cocks his head with that smirk of his but doesn’t move away. “Don’t ‘never mind’ me, what were you gonna say?” 

Shirabu’s shakes his head, his body wanting to look away despite his mind refusing. “It’s nothing.” 

Semi closes the gap between them by pressing his lips to Shirabu’s nose. “Really?” He kisses Shirabu’s nose again. “Nothing?” His fingers inch towards Shirabu’s thighs, but Shirabu doesn’t pull away even though the touch makes him tremble. “Are you sure about that?” 

Before Shirabu can answer, or do anything, really, Semi’s fingers are attacking Shirabu’s thighs, hips, stomach, any part of his body that’s ticklish, throwing Shirabu onto his back with the force of his own uncontrollable laughter. 

Shirabu has never told anyone about how ticklish he is, but Semi must have found out at some point, which is the worst case scenario because Shirabu _hates_ being tickled. More than anything. He hates how vulnerable he feels, how his frustration is masked by the smiling and laughing he can’t resist. 

But now, writhing under Semi’s touch, that smile glowing down at him like Shirabu is the only thing in Semi’s world right now. Maybe being ticklish isn’t such a bad thing. 

“S-Stop! Semi!” Shirabu chokes, still rolling under Semi’s persistent fingers. “Quit it! P-Please, that’s- that’s enough!” 

Semi presses a kiss to Shirabu’s forehead, but he’s unrelenting as he pushes his hands further up his boyfriend’s shirt. “You want me to stop? Then tell me what you were going to say.”

“N-Nothing!” Shirabu squeals. 

Continuing to tickle him, Semi pulls himself over Shirabu, straddling him with his thighs on either side of Shirabu’s hips. Shirabu falls even more out of breath, but it’s because of Semi’s position more than his laughter. 

Semi hasn’t straddled him like this since the night they confessed.

“F-Fine!” Shirabu gasps. 

A painful moment longer, and then Semi’s hands fall still, resting on Shirabu’s torso. He gives Shirabu an expectant look. With the lamplight casting something like a halo around Semi’s hair, a hint of gold in the chocolate of his eyes, Semi looks ethereal. 

“Being your boyfriend is better than everything.” 

There.

He said it. 

_Boyfriend._

His tongue recoils at the sound, but a happy shiver runs up his spine. That word. He smiles out of relief, joy, the way Semi’s looking at him right now. _Boyfriend._

And then he gasps as Semi abruptly pulls his hands from Shirabu’s shirt, bringing them to cup Shirabu’s face. Semi spends a long minute, more than a minute, melting, engulfing Shirabu with his eyes, a smile on his perfect lips that can only come from watching his boyfriend’s walls crumble in his fingertips. 

This smile of Semi’s, stretching into his cheeks but wanting to go further, a slant in his eyebrows and nothing but glowing sincerity. A smile as honest as Semi is. Shirabu wonders… How is being gay a bad thing when Semi smiles like this? 

Semi kisses him slowly. 

No tongue, no greed, no rush. Soft lips the flavor of soda and cheap popcorn, fitting against each other like the moon, like stars. 

How is being gay a bad thing when Semi kisses him like this? 

“Boyfriend, hm?” Semi eventually whispers against Shirabu’s mouth. 

“Yeah. Boyfriend.” 

“You like being my boyfriend?” 

“Yeah.” Shirabu breathes, his eyes sliding shut as he loses himself under Semi’s sweet breath. “I like being your boyfriend.”

“I like being your boyfriend, too.”

“My boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend.” 

Another kiss, not quite as slow but somehow more tender. Shirabu finds himself squeezing his hands at his side and lifting his head into Semi’s touch. 

Until they can’t breathe, their lips don’t part. And even then, Semi just smiles against Shirabu’s mouth and murmurs, “Since you don’t want to watch anything, how about this: I dim the lights, introduce you to my favorite band, and pin your wrists down while we make out. How does that sound?” 

Shirabu’s heart stops working properly. “Good.” 

His skin feels cold as Semi gets off him, so he wraps one of his blankets around him while Semi shuts off the overhead lights, leaving only his lamp on. It’s dim, like he said it would be. He pulls his phone out and sets it on his bedside table before hitting shuffle on some playlist. Rock music with lots of guitar, from what Shirabu can hear. Semi turns it down a lot, though, so that it’s nothing more than faint background noise.

But instead of pinning his wrists down like he said, Semi climbs back onto the bed only to have Shirabu crawl into his lap. 

It takes a ridiculous amount of internal pep talk for Shirabu to straddle Semi’s waist, wrap his arms around his neck and run his hands up into Semi’s hair hard, but it’s worth it. The pink in Semi’s cheeks, surprise in his eyes, it makes up for it.

Shirabu’s careful not to slam their mouths together as he leans in, fully aware that this hint of aggression isn’t like him. Semi doesn’t seem to have any complaints, though, and he lets Shirabu take control of the kiss. Shirabu isn’t confident enough to try to press his tongue between Semi’s lips, but he risks a small nip at Semi’s bottom lip. He could faint at the groan Semi lets out.

This has to be better than sex. Shirabu can’t imagine how anything could be better than the sound of Semi’s exhales between kisses, Semi’s hands gripping his waist, holding him down. Shirabu pulls on Semi’s hair just enough to get a dose of adrenaline. 

“Alright, okay, Kenjirou,” Semi smirks the next time their lips separate. “You’ve had your fun.”

Shirabu doesn’t have to wait to find out what he means by that, because Semi doesn’t waste any time showing him. With one hand still digging into Shirabu’s waist, the other grabs a clump of Shirabu’s hair, yanking his head back so his neck arches. Shirabu turns bright red at the moan that escapes him, and that seems to encourage Semi as he places a kiss on the base of Shirabu’s throat. It’s a soft kiss, deliberate in how his lips linger there. 

Shirabu swallows. Semi’s hot breath trails up his neck. 

His lips land on skin between his jaw and his throat. Shirabu gasps as Semi starts to kiss, but it’s more than a kiss because he uses his tongue, his teeth. There’s something greedy in the way he pulls Shirabu’s hair harder as Shirabu squirms at the sensation. He has a bad feeling that’s going to leave a mark, but he assumed Semi would know that and avoid it. 

“Semi-” Shirabu fidgets, only to be silenced by Semi’s fingers squeezing his hip. 

But Semi pulls away from his neck almost immediately. “What is it, Kenjirou?” He looks at Shirabu through low-lidded eyes, though Shirabu can’t look back with his head at this angle. “You want me to stop?”

“I…” Shirabu feels dizzy under Semi’s gaze. “I don’t want you to leave a mark.” 

Semi releases Shirabu’s hip to rub his thumb along the wet skin he had been attacking, peering at Shirabu’s throat closely. “Okay, babe. Then I won’t.” He places a soft kiss on the spot. “Even though I want to mark up your neck so everyone knows you’re my boyfriend…” Shirabu digs his thumb into his palm to keep himself from shivering. “That can wait. But can I keep kissing you? Is that okay?” 

Shirabu collects his thoughts as best he can before nodding. 

Waiting a bit longer just to make sure Shirabu really is sure, Semi brings his lips back to Shirabu’s throat. He lets go of Shirabu’s hair, but only to cup the back of his head gently. His other hand rests on the edge of Shirabu’s sweater. A question.

Semi hasn’t been allowed to touch Shirabu beneath his clothes, in a sexual way at least. He doesn’t try to pressure Shirabu into anything, either, but he tests the waters sometimes. Like now, as Shirabu freezes at the feeling of a fingertip brush against the skin under his shirt.

“Can I?” Semi whispers, pressing another kiss to Shirabu’s neck. 

He’s probably not in his right mind with his blood warming by the second, a tingling sensation where Semi’s lips touched his skin. That’s the only excuse Shirabu can think of for why he nods a breathless _yes_. 

Again, Semi pauses to give Shirabu a chance to take it back, but Shirabu even goes so far as to bring his hand over Semi’s, encouraging him to move. Shirabu doesn’t know what’s gotten into him tonight. He doesn’t know, yet this… all of this, it’s not nearly as overwhelming as he imagined it to be. 

Semi pushes Shirabu’s head forward and finds his other hand to hold onto, giving Shirabu something to squeeze. And then, ever so slowly, his fingers glide up Shirabu’s abdomen. A sigh leaves Shirabu’s mouth as his body reacts, recoils yet gives into the feeling, something like a chill exploding from the skin Semi touches. 

“Someone’s touch-deprived,” Semi jokes, but Shirabu can’t glare at him because Semi’s fingertips brush against his nipple. He moans, moans like he might cry, and arches his back. Semi does a poor job of hiding his smirk. 

Mere seconds that feel longer than seconds pass as Shirabu’s body tries and fails to adjust to Semi’s touch. He teases Shirabu’s nipples a few more times, probably just because he likes the sounds and expressions Shirabu makes, but it’s nothing compared to the _whimper_ Shirabu lets out when Semi’s finger skirts his waistband. 

“ _God, fuck, Eita…_ ” 

He was paying attention to the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach this whole time, not wanting to get hard whatsoever while in Semi’s lap, but Semi’s hand starts to slip down even further and Shirabu’s dick abruptly throbs. 

His body protests the loss of contact as he grabs sheets, fumbles away from Semi with his heartbeat making it hard to hear. The pulse in his dick is distracting, too, and he helplessly tries to cover his waist with a blanket once he’s on the opposite side of the bed. 

Semi must not be surprised since he doesn’t try to stop him, or even say anything. 

“...I went too far, didn’t I.” 

Shirabu avoids Semi’s eyes. 

“Hey,” Semi murmurs, but Shirabu still won’t look up. “I know I did. I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s not you.” Shirabu blurts. “It’s not-” He falters as he finally looks up, cheeks red as he looks up at Semi, but his gaze... lands on something else. 

On Semi’s pants. 

“ _Oh my god."_ Shirabu breathes. But then he realizes what he just did and jerks his head up in a panic, face hot enough to burn anything that touches it. “Wait! No, god, I didn’t mean- Forget I said that.” 

It only takes a second for Semi to realize what he’s talking about. He’s unphased, though, seemingly more concerned about Shirabu’s reaction to his boner rather than the dark bulge in his pants itself. He cocks an eyebrow at Shirabu. 

“Is it that surprising? We’ve been making out for a while now. And, I mean, you sort of grinded into me by accident. But, this isn’t a bad thing, right?” Semi’s expression falls a little. “Wait, does it make you uncomfortable? I can go take care of it in the bathroom right now, if you want, I didn’t-”

“No! No.” Shirabu shakes his head quickly. Well, maybe he is uncomfortable, but not for the reasons Semi thinks. “I’m fine. That’s… fine. Please don’t worry about it.” 

“You sure?”

Shirabu nods, swallows and pulls the blanket closer around himself. 

“Alright.”

The silence that envelops the bedroom is indescribably awkward, and Shirabu can only deal with it for so long before shuffling to the edge of the bed with the blanket still around his waist. He needs air, cold water, space from Semi to calm down more than just his heart rate. It’s getting hard to breathe in here. 

“Kenjirou?” Semi stands up at the same time Shirabu does. 

He reaches out to stop Shirabu from leaving, but he ends up grabbing the blanket instead. And as Shirabu whirls around to take it back, to wrap it around his waist before he ruins everything, Semi’s gaze lands on Shirabu’s pants. On the bulge in his own pants.

Both of them are paralyzed.

Until Semi clears his throat, blinks and looks up at the horror on Shirabu’s face. “...Kenjirou?” 

Shirabu yells at his legs to work, desperate to disappear and lock himself in the bathroom, but he can’t move. 

It’s too late now. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t even realize,” Semi shakes his head, his mouth curving. “Were you… Did you want to deal with that? In the bathroom? I guess that’s where you were going… Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop you. By all means.” He gestures to the door. 

Shirabu’s throat feels tighter at the implication of his words. There’s nothing he can say, not unless he wants to embarrass himself in front of his boyfriend. 

“...Right.” 

But Shirabu stays put. 

“Uh,” Semi shifts, crosses his arms. “Do you need me to show you where it is?” 

“No.”

“Okay, babe.” 

Once again, Shirabu doesn’t move. He just shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath instead. It’s too late. As much as his anxiety is swelling with every moment his dick remains hard, he has to tell himself it’s already too late and this conversation is inevitable.

“Semi.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how.” 

Shirabu’s glad his eyes are closed because he really doesn’t want to see the expression on his boyfriend’s face as those words add to the weight of the air around them. 

_Rule #13: Never let anyone, particularly boys, find out you don’t know how to masturbate._

“...You don’t know how… Like, you don’t know how to jerk off?”

Shirabu turns away with a soft _tch_. That’s enough of an answer for Semi. 

“Kenjirou.” His voice is softer than it was just a moment ago, and Shirabu almost doesn’t pull away when he feels Semi’s hand on his shoulder. Semi doesn’t reach after him when he does pull away, though. “I promise that isn’t something to be embarrassed about. _Especially_ with me. Don’t you know that by now? That no matter what it is, I won’t ever judge you? And it’s not like you can help this, either.” 

Now, when Semi touches his shoulder again, Shirabu doesn’t stop him. Of course he’s on the verge of tears, because that’s his automatic response to essentially everything, but it’s deeper than that. These words, Semi’s words. He didn’t know he needed to hear them until they make his eyelashes sting. The threat of tears. 

“But…” Semi goes on. “Doesn’t it hurt?” 

Shirabu’s eyes widen. 

His dick definitely hurts. It always does while waiting for boners to disappear. 

He gives a small nod, still unable to turn around and face Semi. 

“Do you want me to help you, Kenjirou?” 

Shirabu feels light-headed. 

“Help. As in, help me… help me to…”

“Yeah.” Semi sucks in a breath, nods. “Exactly.” 

“O-Oh.”

For the first time tonight, Semi flushes pink. “But, but that’s just an idea. It’s stupid, honestly. You- Please don’t feel pressured at all. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No.”

“Okay, that’s totally okay-”

“No, I meant… I meant, yes. I wouldn’t mind… your help.”

Neither of them can believe what Shirabu’s saying.

“Kenjirou? Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

“Just do it, Eita.”

“Well...Actually,” Semi shifts. “I think it would be easier if I just showed you.”

“Showed me..?”

“Yeah.” Semi brings tentative fingers to his waistband, undoing his belt and jeans in slow yet fluid motions. “Like this.” He pauses before pushing his pants down, as if he’s assessing the level of panic in Shirabu’s eyes, but he must decide it’s not too bad because the next thing he knows, Shirabu’s watching Semi Eita’s cock spring out of his underwear. 

He’s seen Semi’s dick before. Only briefly in the showers and clubroom, though, never letting himself see anything on purpose. But this… Semi’s not exceptionally long or thick persay. It’s more like his cock is somehow as pretty as he is. Perfect. Just right. Mouthwatering. 

Maybe just a little bit longer than average. 

The only thought in Shirabu’s head is _holy shit_. 

He doesn’t notice himself licking his lips, but Semi does. Semi smirks as he kicks his jeans and briefs off completely, turns his attention to his dresser where he digs around for a moment before pulling out a small bottle. Shirabu doesn’t need to have watched porn his whole life to know that it’s lube. 

Semi settles on his bed with his back against the headboard, legs spread in front of him, the sound of lube between his fingers muffled by a guitar solo from his phone. 

It’s the hottest thing Shirabu has seen in his entire life. 

“Kenjirou,” Semi smiles as he pulls his boyfriend’s attention away from his leaking dick. “Come over here, babe. On the bed.” 

Shirabu does as he’s told, even if he’s barely conscious in this situation which feels like a dream more than anything. He sits criss-cross in front of Semi, in front of Semi’s dick. He bites his lip. 

“I’ve never done this in front of someone before.” Semi admits, cheeks turning pink as embarrassment finally creeps up on him. 

“I’m glad I’m the first.” Shirabu finds himself saying. 

“Oh, really?”

He nods.

This seems to restore Semi’s confidence somewhat, because he brings a hand to his base and lets his head fall back as he starts pumping. Nothing about it is slow, but rather more abrasive, more desperate than Shirabu expected. Not that Shirabu had any expectations going into this. 

But Semi’s only been pumping himself off for barely a minute when Shirabu finds himself scooting forward, entranced by the summation of his wettest dreams unfolding in front of him. 

“Yeah? You like watching me jerk off, Kenjirou?” 

Shirabu always gets flustered when Semi says things like that, but for some reason, in this moment, he has a sudden impulse to play along. More than that. 

So instead of responding, Shirabu gets on all fours, closes the gap between them and brings a shaky hand over Semi’s. 

He swallows. “I should practice, shouldn’t I?” 

Semi looks at him like he wants to fuck him right then and there. His hand stills, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Shirabu as he pulls away, leaving his cock free for Shirabu’s hand. His sudden burst of brattiness leaves him as soon as it comes, though, but he’s in too deep for Semi to let him stop now. 

“Here,” Semi smirks, pulling Shirabu’s hand onto his cock. 

Shirabu’s breath catches at the pulse he can feel in his palm. His own dick twitches. He can’t begin to think about how many rules this is breaking. 

He doesn’t care about that anymore. 

Semi wraps his hand over Shirabu’s, coaxing him to start moving, and putting on a show once he does. A show of bucking his hips up into Shirabu’s hand, letting his eyes slide closed but not quite, releasing soft groans that Shirabu gets distracted thinking about in class sometimes. 

It doesn’t take long for Shirabu to get the hang of it. Where to tighten his grip, how to swipe his thumb over the head, paying attention to his shaft. Semi shuts his eyes and exhales a moan, a low moan that makes Shirabu whimper just to hear it, and he cums a moment later.

Shirabu didn’t realize how much it can splatter. He flinches as white fluid lands on his nose, cheeks. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cum on your face.” Semi groans, out of breath, giving himself a few final pumps. He rubs his thumb over Shirabu’s chin with his free hand, and slips it into Shirabu’s mouth before he can object. Salty, a little bit sweet. 

Shirabu takes a risk by sucking on Semi’s finger. 

“ _Shit_.” Semi pulls his hand away, but only to wrap it around Shirabu’s throat. “You think you've had enough practice, baby? You wanna make yourself feel good now?”

Shirabu doesn’t recognize himself as he nods a bit too eagerly, lets Semi sit him up and start to undo his pants. Rationally, he knows he should hate this. But… Why should he? Because it’s gay? It could just be his aching dick taking the edge off, but Shirabu couldn’t be happier to be gay. 

He only falters once Semi’s fingers reach his briefs. One look from Semi gives him the momentary adrenaline he needs to pull them off, but it doesn’t make up for the crippling lack of self-esteem he has when it comes to his dick, knowing that he’s not as big as his teammates and took precautions to hide, mainly from Semi because-

“Kenjirou. You’re perfect.” Semi rubs circles into Shirabu’s waist as he gazes at him, hunger behind his eyes. “Beautiful. Have I made that clear enough yet?” 

Only Semi can mute Shirabu’s insecurities with a single word. A single look. A touch. Shirabu’s too dazed to do anything other than let Semi reposition the two of them, with Semi against the headboard again and Shirabu leaning back against his chest. Semi pours lube into his hand. He rubs some into Shirabu’s, too, and guides both of them to Shirabu’s cock. 

“Make yourself cum for me, Kenjirou. Can you do that?” Semi murmurs. 

Shirabu just leans his head back on Semi’s shoulder and gives himself a few experimental pumps. He’s tried this before, but he never let himself finish. Mostly because he was always hard thinking about some hot boy, which violated the don’t-jerk-off-to-hot-boys rule. But this is so much different than that. 

His thighs are already trembling, moans pouring out of his like rain from the sky. And Semi’s eating every little noise up.

“Yeah, babe? That feels good, doesn’t it. You’re so good for me, _fuck_ ,” Semi almost laughs, bringing his hand to join Shirabu’s on his cock.

" _S-Shut up_ ," Shirabu manages, but he's cut off by a whimper. 

It’s embarrassing how quick it is, but that’s all it takes for Shirabu to arch his back, squeeze his eyes shut and cum just like Semi asked, his whole body trembling as the first orgasm of his life washes through him. 

Semi attacks his neck with open-mouthed kisses while he comes down from the high. He keeps kissing him, even after Shirabu collapses against him. 

Semi gradually changes to gentler kisses that pepper Shirabu’s cheeks and forehead. 

Semi runs tender fingers through Shirabu’s hair.

Semi whispers _beautiful_ into Shirabu’s ear. 

Semi covers Shirabu in a blanket as Shirabu starts to nod off. 

This isn’t how Shirabu ever imagined their first official date, their first official sleepover to play out. He never would’ve guessed Semi would knock down his strongest of walls in a single night. An absurd chain of events that has left them half naked in each other’s arms. 

It’s not that so much can change in a short time more than it is that Semi Eita can do things other people can’t in a short time. Or maybe that’s just for Shirabu. 

_“Being queer fucking sucks, but it’s so worth it.”_

Semi said that to him what feels like so long ago now, even if it was only a few weeks. He didn’t know what he meant at the time. He didn’t think he could ever really know those words. Until now. 

Semi’s worth it. 

And that’s why being queer is worth it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at long last! the final update (つω`｡) this fic is really special to me for no reason other than just,, semishira as a whole. i really enjoyed writing them in such a healthy relationship because i think a lot of fanfics portray dating in an unrealistic (and sometimes toxic) way 🥺 writing about internalized homophobia was important for me, too, and i think it makes sense for shirabu.
> 
> regarding this specific chapter! obviously smut serves a very specific purpose (who doesn’t love smut let’s be real) but i didn’t include it just to be h*rny. i genuinely think the sexual aspect of their relationship is important for shirabu to come to terms with himself ❤️
> 
> thank you so much for those of you who have stuck with me through this 🥺🥺💖 come say hi anytime! sending love :) ^^


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